Saturday, March 27, 2010


Be the frame for my tired bones to collapse on; let my sunken skin be yours to wear
for a little while.

Meet me under the purple sky- I'll be the girl with a thorny rose pinned on her jacket, and an icepick in her other hand;
We'll chisel the clouds of shale into a powdery rain; we'll wash our dirty hands beneath the silver setting sun.
We'll be strong again.

Strong like the yellow shoots that spring through mountain cracks, strong like acid rain that burns through the brick walls of an empty apartment,
where I'll stay and wait for spring to come and melt me back into the earth.

Maybe I'll be born again like a phoenix rising from its ashes,
gritty, small, and wrinkled,
but stronger.

Dread and impending doom. Faithless faith and hopeless hope.
A lost second chance I never had.

It's 3 am, and I'm waiting to burst into flame.

1 comment:

  1. The imagery in this piece is just magnificent, I especially liked the second paragraph - such lyrical words.


Write me a song.