Monday, September 15, 2014

Doing What I Never Do

My body covered
with scars
some I chose
many I simply 
survived trying
hard to 
let them heal
not pick until
the blood returned
like a bad man 
lightning nightmares
cutting deep
the delicate skin 
of dream
Fellow wizard
do you live 
by the shapes 
of your nights?
Of course not
of course not!
The mirror 
would never 
allow it!
Triangles, rectangles
the geometry
never quite made 
sense holding order 
by its logical throat
never rendering 
the correct amount
of perfume 
to grant normal
dismissive glances
the streets render
with a crayon
made of something 
worse than shit
I don't know but 
that covetous feeling
comes from 
so many directions
The most unexpected 
human history
told in honest layers 
of micro-dirt

No comments:

Post a Comment