Wednesday, December 6, 2017

Black Widows


I begin to contemplate the point

upon a dead rose bush in the snow.
I can feel the thorns piercing me.
This is life, life is pain
and we know. it won't be the same again


I hear the man in the room, he's come to take me away.

The rain is pounding on the tin roof.
The ships are setting starboard.

The ceiling has collapsed
taking me for a joke on their journey to satellites
where the skeleton of the beast
bastardized

on a cold desert plane
where we took off
to manage something we never understood
and it was too late.

We gave in too soon too brave.

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