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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