quarta-feira, 3 de julho de 2024

To tell a joke at a funeral

 Leaf splits and through light cries to me
crispy pieces of my past ripping off and falling
attempting to share the top of the forest
the big wonder in surviving under the blue grey

Invented and conceived in color and reality
lost in contrasting forms obscured by freak mist
Death sipping at the edge of us trying to trade a few years off
So skin and routine loosens golden age ruthlessly breaks in

Lines across the face and concern over lines of credit
Flowing through the tunnels between eye and imagination
the skin splits and through life cries out to me
pieces of me floating away the solid rest seeks peace

Born and conceived in the blue and grey hospital
fat october and underfed nurses the month knees wouldn't extend
Death lost it's face and flying through the rafters
huge empty warehouses of creation it would have the last laugh

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