tracing the sun with empty pens and broken tweezers. the quake of her skin soft, yet penetrating. as she collects the world in jagged strips. the obvious puzzles. their slender solutions. pistons in the engine. imagining the world outside the machine. an economy of choices. rich with consequences. spend us.
a series of folds and creases. transform. the delicate illusion of want. betray the genie in favor of the lamp.I need the light more than the wish. Alwyas have.
dared by the pen to begin anew. the blueprints of solitude. the shakey construct of when. chews on her tit. seldom nourished, but always eager.
the test takes her. multiple choice surrender. no count on the graves she dug. nor the ghosts that linger above them.
life has always been a vague series of suicides. the only difference is now they are clearer.
soft windows bend to accomodate the wind. soft stairs struggle to support their climb. she chokes on the colors. eyes closed. pretending not to see what's always been there.
it's the end of the world. but she's the only one that notices.
Monday
7/15/2013 12:49:00 AM
Sad Labels:
acceptance
,
alone
| Life Poems |