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Literature
the warrior supplicates
burn
the rest
of me
but spare
my
skull.
cake it
with jewels.
soak it
in dyes,
pour water from it
onto withered greens.
glue candles to the
inside with their own wax,
make it a bowl
for things
too easily
lost.
Literature
Subside
Listen, there is snow
in the mountains and
rain in the valleys.
You can hear it from here,
everything rolling over
into sleep.
It all
wets down.
I pace the room
like an atom
in an atom bomb
but really, it's all gone
a little mossy
the way a gun looks
in the forest
one hundred years after.
Literature
Over
To be over something
is to ride a speed bump
up to its crescent
and crush it
under tire
until the road is wrinkle-free.
To be over, some
tires have to lose
their grip
on past reality.
To be over someone
is to drive a car
through potholes
to find smooth road
ahead.
To be over, some
one has to say
those potholes
don't feel like quicksand
anymore.
Because it is over -
you are the speed bump
that can become
a level crossing.
You can watch
your train of thought
passing by, lay
a thumbprint upon the ground
and cry
Then step back,
let the vision vanish
into dust
Let the life tracks
left behind
form a new railway.
Then,
drive away.
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okay so it's a letter to my cat. i don't know how shitty it is yet. don't tell me.
Comments52
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WHY WAS THIS NOT IN MY FAVOURITES
THIS POEM IS HOW I FOUND YOU
HAHAHA
THIS POEM IS HOW I FOUND YOU
HAHAHA