City of blue tile.
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Figure in Ceramics.
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Where we reach out.
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Grab for Porcelain.
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But it's too fragile to hold.
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And it shatters in our hands.
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In time the seasons will seal these shards.
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Into the slits that denote your wrists.
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Death is the answer.
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To calculations composed of motions that are the same.
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And secret and different
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A missing alphabet with a message for us.
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When people die.
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(DIE,DIE!)
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They take a piece of us with them.
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(PEOPLE DIE AND DIE!)
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And holes in clouds are minutes passing.
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(DIE AND DIE!)
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Rescind this line and several ties.
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(PEOPLE DIE AND DIE EVERYDAY!)
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The skyline unfolds into explanation.
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That sometimes words give up.
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And silently walk off the edge of the page.
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And here the cry opens up reveals the word inside.
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The crack in the porcelain.
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The silent line of sky-lit eyes show.
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Death up there shine more brightly than lives down here.
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Try and live.
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Porcelain
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| Thursday |
