Saturday, March 21, 2009

Condemned to a Cycle


Consciousness flows in my ears and trickles down my spine, the sheep are around me

Thought is of no concern for me; I relax in my own hypocrisy

A mother calls out for a missing child; my eyelids shut the waves out for a while

More fading as days pass, their baggage forever rotating around the conveyer belts

Most forgotten

Life was too thin, they had second thoughts, I had my first

Faces turn to masks that seem too real, have I uttered in days?

My clock doesn’t bother any more; I see it in my breath…3…2…1

The house shrinks as I am pulled up; all is color, my eyes spill grey all over

Time and space gut each other on my way up, scraps of meat hit my face

I wake up in a body drilled with holes, where am I?

Shangri-La was staring me in the face, but it was premature so they walked away

Purgatory for a week, no… a second? I felt awkward asking

I am me again; my holes are filled with other’s pieces, a little too baroque for my tastes

The floor gives

Click…the hammer releases

I am a vessel

Splash

I deteriorate when I connect with the other bodies, or did they?

I am no longer me, I am we

I am wet

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