Upon broken bones of a fallen soldier you’ll only see the cracks made there by a kiss. The child grew old by the harsh lashes her mother bested upon her mortality. I cried for the broken towers, for the rotten flesh of the hearts so forgotten life was never able to repay. The kings at the mountains never understood morality, never understood the price of a single bread. They simply proved our minds and hopes to us. I cried to all the pigeons perching at my window sill: ” send your best! A child has awoken”. But the mother simply drew the curtains shot. The child slept for the fear of truth. All the fathers knew not to meddle for they never truly cared. Loneliness is sweet. Like minded trees never grasped the weeping willow.
The tip resisted the surge of thoughts on paper…for my pencil knew the ending…the black grains scratched through the last words: I am leaving this li…the tip broke…a tear in paper…a tear dropped on I dissolving it into a smudge as my life was…nothingness is far easier than death.
You set my clock again at eight sharp,You closed my eye drops in a jar,I was afar…You baked my cake red with the blood of flamingos at winter,I blessed the dreams with a kiss,You went afar…I stopped baking…stopped smiling … ceased to eat…to exist…I was no more …. a woman no more…An empty shell gathering sand at the shore waiting for another wave…Unawares of the sun…the sand…the desert I called home…I was alone.ZB
The second the eyes focused on the stranger beyond the frame, the stranger became a friend. Yet from inside the eyes there was an another looking out, reaching for a bond which wasn’t there. The stranger had already awoken a third shadow. The mirror cracked and the pieces showered the sky. A black abyss was gazing in. Where did all the flowers go? “I hadn’t smelled them yet,” thought the first man.
She took the chair under the fan…climbed on … remembered to shut it off…descended…switched it off…mounted the chair…stood silently under the receding click click…tied the rope…observed the knot…her passion used to be untangling the yarn…nice change…took the loop by the neck…looked at the clock…at the strike of twelve…no sooner…no later…one minute left…took a deep breath…held it…let it go…inhaled…jumped…pain was the first thought…then came numbness…so fast pain mellowed into frenzied marshmallow…jumped back in the chair…released the loop…the arms were longer now…just the right length for the sleeves…job well done…untied the knot…hit the fan…the rope slithered down…it was getting hot again.
Crushed between the throngs of the wheel, the rat was left for dead at the side of the road.
The tail was leaving for another adventure but the rat was left for dead on the side of the road.
The canine teeth left for another mouth but the rat was left for dead by the side of the road.
The whiskers drew the wind closer to ride but the rat was left for dead inside the road.
Death was busy elsewhere. The rat dragged its corps by the claws through the road.
Mother greeted his son with open arms.
Rise from the ashes of your lungs to see the stars shining through your eyes. They tell stories of the past lives never lived, yet forgotten by us. Past chances never mattered when ignored through the closed windows.
Souls yearn; no, they burn to see the fresh air outside of the body but to do so dying is required. Everyone is baffled by the entanglement of his/her soul on the inside. Everyone is in pain. No one can escape the confinements of this body; the eternal ethereal prison we call home. It reeks half the time and the other half searches for a purpose, a way to survive, to matter in a world where nothing matters anymore; no religion, no ideology, no salvation, no utopia, nothing is out there; no god awaits our return. We came from nowhere. We’re not going anywhere.
We’re all stuck here. Why?
Wondrous birds of prey sank their teeth in to shut the agony fighting the raging in to barter every soul to hell was a master stroke in the paramount importance of a queer mind yet unquenched by the ravages of time to be alone in the murderous silence of the lambs asymmetrical to the grossly unrealized tigers with so much fur to carry across time my brain couldn’t fathom poor tiny monsters Monday mornings going to work for the corporate fat cats who enjoy a good mouse once in a while if any since all the mice have poisoned human souls with their misinterpreted folly, joy!
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