Sunday, October 2, 2011

play, when pressed

Again I say the world is on fire, and my mouth is full of ashes. Again I say the day is done, with shadows stuck to my teeth. I grin that death's head grin, ragged teeth and eyes that are all but dead. I pass the exit, I pass the hat. There's nothing left to do but put the cherry on top and say please. The news never rests once it is loosed. A bullet freed always sounds the same.

I don't rest on my laurels, lacking medal, degree, or honor. I barely manage to sleep through the night. The sky bends to the changes in the season. The weather does its level best to entertain. These claims I make settle amongst the debris and deadfall. This name I carry could disappear without one notice or complaint.

My life is measured in slips and stitches. My story goes the way of dead ends and half clever feints. The notation steps up when there is nothing much to notice. When every thing of substance turns out to be smoke and shine, style is all that is left to take the lonesome lead. False stars and scarred hands, I take the measure of everything that isn't mine. I speak in skipped stones and bare flesh, chance and magic my every move. I speak aloud, though the hour is late and only the walls are left to listen.

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