the hardened heartbeat of this glossy face
is rather like the stark and silver thud of
ancient drainpipe, tied with fraying ropes
to tires who have seen many miles,
dropping angrily into nothingness.
i touch your face but there is no substance,
only a strikingly anonymous visage
which is both exotic, and strangely familiar.
you speak with nonchalance like molten glass,
like sharply snapping shards of it;
pleasantly saying nothing at all,
such beautiful, empty words.
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1 comment:
you are AMAZING.
i'm probably going to come back and read all your old posts soon.
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