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July 5, 2013


I’m a skull.
And each penny dropped inside.
Is a perjury against our persistence.
Each candle lit in my eye.
Sputtering down to liquid.
Is resistance against the gavel of time.
Useless, languid, judgement of mine.
Coins to tear the clockwork.
Beyond a line it was not engineered to pass.
Sodden with hock.
Bred on the vine.
Words falling forward.
Inured by amino acids.
Corked to last.
Red run straight through my bloodline.
Sucking sorry in rooms where falls the jury of toys.
A verdict of vindication, a benediction of joy.


From → Poetry

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