Monday, December 26, 2016


Collected words
Bound in paper, bound in head
Bound in heart.
...standing still, glued...rustling
Wanting purpose, owning themselves
Owing nothing but volume
To points long gone.

"I remember my first love..."
But not fondly, in the way he sings

I remember buckets of time
Filled with dirty water
Distilled in the vacuum of hours gone.
Rusted over, til tilted
Rummaging over dusted pus
Pointing fingers at the death
That time snapped the neck of.

I dance slowly in these lullaby's
In the invisible in between twitches
That tiptoe always for a chance to be spun.
There is no festering sliver
No festooned regret brandishing red flags
There is kindness, understanding, forgiveness.
The cadence here, though melancholy
Is loved, loved, loved...

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