Aug 6, 2014
gravestoned
what is this weight behind my knees?
which invisible king asks me to prostrate myself
before his unseen empire?
whose army is this pricking my side
to pop this growing boil
on the face of adolescent Earth,
a pressurized speck full of dark stains and salt?
.
one day I know they will push me flat
a bug dashed on a cosmic windshield
times’s rubber blades scraping my memory
a terminal lateral arc
.
so I break these breadcrumbs off of myself
and crumble them across the paths I leave to the past
I can see only one direction
and I only have one set of eyes
no one will sing my story aloud
so I hold it quietly in this home that is my tomb