i think i was murdered here.
but at least i’ve gotten smarter.
silent when i don’t need to speak,
i move, i kill, i still feel joy.
everything commanded: the universal, envied perfection.
i keep my mind, a means to keep living.
* * *
descriptions, first spring moon.
open my eyes to epitaphs.
old confetti, postcards from manhattan.
another gone era of longing,
and i’ve died again. reborn,
blood commands me to watch and remember.
drift between shells and borders.
describe people more sharply.
hearts and heavenscapes rain past dazed eyes.
they’ll never see me, even if i’d want them to.
or they’ll see me once, but never touch me.
notice my kindred ghosts, broken and terrified,
forgetting all humanity. Smashed by opposites,
they haunt, they howl.
they keep only everything they want back,
fading and darkening with each sob.
:
:
~A.
dreamlogs & other ephemera 