12-25-2011, 02:26 PM
I can't.
Keep my hands.
Off the wound.
Pick
pick
pickpickpickpickpick
jigsawed and vexed.
I can't
forget
the babyness of your face
the sparkle of mischief
and the sweetness of being near
your death.
No, that's wrong.
It was life in the springtime
before you crawled into the soft center
of nothingness where I couldn't follow
and
amputated the silkworm umbilicus.
Precision, for once.
Hushed
as I admire the brutal
artistry
of your synaptic pyrotechnics.
Unable to congratulate you,
I am a white banded mockingbird
undermining the doctrine of transmutation.
Keep my hands.
Off the wound.
Pick
pick
pickpickpickpickpick
jigsawed and vexed.
I can't
forget
the babyness of your face
the sparkle of mischief
and the sweetness of being near
your death.
No, that's wrong.
It was life in the springtime
before you crawled into the soft center
of nothingness where I couldn't follow
and
amputated the silkworm umbilicus.
Precision, for once.
Hushed
as I admire the brutal
artistry
of your synaptic pyrotechnics.
Unable to congratulate you,
I am a white banded mockingbird
undermining the doctrine of transmutation.
PS. If you can, try your hand at giving some of the others a bit of feedback. If you already have, thanks, can you do some more?