a bouquet of clumsy words

rose, salt, teal-grey. the flowers were rotting on the graves, bodies, marshes & fields in the early spring, yellow – mustard yellow, yellow pain(t), fingertips, since feeling is first, violence, blood & violence, stillborn, coruscate, the years, systole, diastole, pestilence, war, chiaroscuro, come them as they will, you you you – my hands, your corrosion, mountains, rise and fall, breathing patterns, things that fluctuate – the tide, ebb and flow, heartbeats, people through doors, fear – terrible fear, fear represented by spiders, hanging by a thread, harshness – harshness of voices, stigmata, blood and nails, midway, your funeral… my trial, murder and heat and it’s always the sun – glaring, blinding, suffocating, mirraging, shifting thoughts and perception – seeing things that aren’t there, points and convergence, isolation, mother i tried please believe me i’m doing the best that i can’t, shame like hot mud which makes you sink into the heat of your own body, even if you’re always looking for a way out, windowless internment, pawns, golden light and silver light – the golden apples of the sun / the silver apples of the moon, my body – its stars stuck in like crystals, like rock salt, miles and miles of shadow which recalls nostalgia, little girl – who do you think you are

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endlesstrains @ flickr

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