The Body Clocking Wayward
The body is
given to oblivion
Feet
anchored in the memories of ancient wars
An organism
of exquisite art
memories so
sweet they seem stolen
determined and determining
innocence
died screaming in you
Stuck in the
gaze of new eyes
time
trespassed into vision-
sight
trespassed into time
hours away,
miles away
I hear the
clocks ripening,
ripened
without permission this decay of the mind
cracks in
the skin of the sky
no longer
bitter hearts and bitter minds
a redundancy
of syllables of self loathing
so we cannot
see far down the road
clocking
wayward
I have a
memory of an echo
of seeing
the knife cutting
deep into
your finger before it happened
So- add
another layer of glass to those cliffs of insanity
and stop
doing back-flips of cadmium blue- star-struck
a body given
to oblivion
(Compiled by Paul Francis)
(Compiled by Paul Francis)
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