Laying down
It's happening
the weight of it percolates through my skull
with all the elegance of a cheese grater
the sting lingers
bleaching my bones
which by now are being held together with red ribbons
rattling and swaying in the wind
it happens all the time
I'm on my back after the fact
and the sky weaves through itself
playing dancer
to a tune I can't seem to hear
over the cacophony
of breathing walls
blinking eyes
and final heart beats
(the exclamation point at the end of each passing)
all simultaneous
all endless
the art is lost on me
__________________
and we stayed, sixteen.
|