June 3, 2011

alchemy and algorithms



and now they are all just empty words...



burning all of them
my yule tide loves
my language locks
my boxed knocks
my rusted pox
has worn you
thin enough
to squeeze the bones of us
between dimensions
I can only paint our time in shadows now
the weave of a once brighter light bends
around the corners
I cut myself on
not wanting to let
anyone win
bleeding my sin
onto the spent ashes
of something once
more alive
from the outside in

1 comment:

  1. Love this:

    "my yule tide loves
    my language locks
    my boxed knocks
    my rusted pox
    has worn you"

    ReplyDelete