feeling on

 

the pebbles of time and memory all intact in my head
in some vessels of brain and some nucleic soul division
seeing melted clocks do not make me weep for I know
the only time that transcends time is the time of deeds
and the Hereafter of this life which sees the next.

my words are a painful dive into the unknown
no matter the algorithm I am useless to know
all that encompasses for even if the butterfly’s
death did not hurt me; her sacrifice fed the plant
who later said ‘I desire to nurse you’ and my kind
repaid that race with slaughter and bathed in its
juicy blood. I am slaughtered in kind by the massacre
and the abscisses in my heart now make me weak
round stones
the rocks behaved boldly and wildly and in an abnarchy
that bypassed concrete propaganda and systems of rot
and they spoke about so much and yet with my malleable
teeth erected nothing but a suffering in a plasticised skin

why not I learn from water and earth? And my lashes swallow
the dust and dew and pine for a foam of petals and hearth.▬

Speak yer mind

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