long strings. short kites. the dead keep track. the miles are vain.
suffer the shell. exhault the cage.
she listens for the distance. even as close as they've been.
the lies come easily. the truth resolves. choices like broken glass. cut their way inside. the potential of lost. paints her footsteps in permanent ink.
it's only the how that gives pause. amongst the stroke of faltering psychopaths. a little rain. to wake the wind. a blunt blade to coax the wound. until the lies are soft enough. to almost be worth believing.
the reluctant math of seldom skin. polished. like so many mirrors. we wager the bridges. confident in our deceptions.
we chase the sun. hounds in muzzles digging at their cages.
the tower leaned. the jester sung. flesh wagered. well spent. on broken machines.
Thursday
7/06/2017 12:21:00 AM
| Life Poems |