This place, more orange nowadays.
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The ashen badlands redeem.
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Your face, through magnified glass, still draws me in.
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Those big eyes draw me in.
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Distrophy, stale again.
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Entropy: care so much for kamikaze copilots who wear helmets.
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Encapsulated but commingling.
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Privatized public apologies that are bought and sold.
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Packaged and stored in atticks for addicts.
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Cold hands strumming the mile-high regrets.
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Perplexed?
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Perhaps!
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Impossible to postpone plights of professional penmanship.
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Unopinionated routines, worn knees in a crawling season.
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Easy to imitate the oaks: shave a mountain man's beard.
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Insidious sight-seers holding candles to those clutching torches.
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Torture.
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How will they put out the flames?
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Once proud to be the anxious, nae marionette.
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But in time, became the shrewd, arthritic puppeteer.
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Compare and contrast.
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Were you better off then as you alienated your limbs?
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Alienated your purpose to flail?
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|
-----------------
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Human Bodies
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| Folly |
