Landed, Miscarried

Landed, miscarried.

Bone-to-bone only,

The body has a

Shining pinkish string,

Naturally violin.

In real life there are no

Sweet piano notes,

Things don’t move in

S l o w motion

See me let go

Release the clutch

Amid twinkling particles

In my eyes or

Around me

It all happens to somebody

Else, not to me,

Never to me

But here I am and

The ground is cold

My feet are cold

My body is cold

But my head

And face feel hot

The ground is wet and

Sparkly and

Wet and

It’s glass, my

Glass. The ground

Grabs me like bone-to-

Bone ligaments

I can flex but not move

And my woman,

My lady,

Running and her face

Is wet like the pavement

Don’t cry, lady

My head is warm even though

My feet and hands are so cold

Don’t cry

Who knew the night was so dark

Did they turn out the

Streetlights so no-body could see me?

That’s probably smart.

I’ll be fine, back in a minute,

Just leave me in the dark

Leave me be and don’t

Cry, just leave me be.

I’ll just

Take a short

nap and be

with you


just leave



This entry was published on August 27, 2012 at 09:08. It’s filed under Poetry and tagged , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink. Follow any comments here with the RSS feed for this post.

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