Thursday, August 9, 2012

Circles

Rose vines sprouting out of her synthetic skin,

Flowers in full bloom in the navel of autumn.
Smell the wind -
Rust, divine rust.
Reason pushing out of hollow eye sockets,
Ripping the doll face it once made.
Melting silver
Metal jaws
Crumble under the ecstasies of make believe
And truths she toyed with to sink into.
Smell the wind -
Rust sweet rust,
The honey in your mouth cannot compare.
And she knows it, she knows it now
That you
Are all the same.
You are all made of dirt that maggots eat
And you consume her guts, her wits
To whispers
To memories.
And I still can't understand why she's depleting.
Because you are just dirt and she's nothing.
How can nothing dissolve
And how can dirt not disappear?

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