Thursday, July 28, 2011


Removing this shard

not that it hurts anymore.

The missing lens
To a spyglass that searches for land
Against backdrops of barren seas

Played cautious, coy, and close

How can I tell you are my species?
The perception of your depths I lost
I left them someplace,
someplace that fears
as the photo album that lives
in the back corner
of the floor
of the basement
in my mind.

how I wish they burn collaborative effects
as they team up one by one in my mind,
that I don’t ever bring up

subconscious puns  
where being haunted became comedy at some point
and the ghosts in me never hesitate
to spread wings and draw blood

I wish I could
left with only the running ink

words that nothing can relate, re-tell, or rephrase

when I met our end on some barren road
with nothing to chase but your smell

lowering our eyes and wanting nothing
one foot in front of the other, one day at a time

abdicated what was once soft tissue
 and became callous with infection

that we call
survival .

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