Wednesday, September 30, 2015

27 ways to Give Up.

Torn, in a few places
Fleeting, time, taunting moments with what 'was'
Gasping at dying breath
Gone, windows pasted over
View - out.
Rot-ridden, the decay, newly begun
What little time and hope afforded this-
This convoluted emptiness
Born of assumptions.

I am whole again
In my solitude.
Home again, in my lonesomeness
Hope, strewn about like a broken pinata
Confetti, becoming one with the dirt
Concoction of memory and 'almost there' remedies
I hold fast in the stickiness
The sticky, messy, blasted to bits- communion.
Busted host, with its crimson residue

As though 'feeling pretty' had been enough
To stay the nature of darkened beasts
Inhabiting darkened beats
The dying animal bleats
Cornered too late
Blinded, soundless, touch-less
As the errant dreaming of Lovers
Roams disconnected
Into the flume of loss.

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