Monday, April 25, 2016


The days arrive wrapped in words-- the good, the bad, the blue. Know the sky by the birds alight, know your bones by the ache. The things we say just slip away. The bare intentions linger. The needs they have you'll never know. They certainly aren't you. Faces slowly start to stray until you're the stranger they once knew. 

I creep along these dusty halls, these dog swept corridors. Quiet in this shuffling skin, the flesh my only heir. Waiting as if in faith, moving as if in chains. I am daunted and I am dire, removed once from this world, never to find my way back. Interred in these jagged hurtful thoughts for all around to witness, each step straying further from sense. There are never words enough for the sort of waste I am.

Return at once to that pristine path, the beloved self, the hidden choir. Let your voice ring out above the fray, let the losses lie. Pretend along some chosen path, sanctify your crimes. Believe in the light that loves you, obey the court where your heart holds sway. Sing out to the unseen heavens, never mindful of the souls you burn for warmth. 

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