one last feel

one last holler. bleed it out before the dogs come. what you had is now lost. unfindable. if it ever was at your blackened fingertips. rotten digits pieces of flesh that fell to the ground, became hackneyed and butterflied away on roads less traveled. um, right. don't kid self. in those moments, a million reasons to run away. hide. for only inside the sunburnt skin could an answer be found. between these plates of skull and bones. the real alteration remains ahead. unreachable always.

2 comentarios:

awadhwa dijo...

nice

jp dijo...

thanks. glad somebody's reading my new desperate stabs at something like poetry (and saying 'nice'). jp