Simulation

if this is lock and key
to the appearance who peers upon this—
then you’re missing your

own life at this moment a drawn-line
thin-stalk of
shadow follows in crimson

undead, drooling for harbor among
familiar symmetry, to sit
and hug the chair to what feels

as if to belong, yet
days are crooked, the
weather is sad and the ruins of

Palmyra remain
ruins of human-psychology, raped
in public then beheaded, and

it continues, poisonous
water from Denver City, if
this is too short and

cut at the breath, or
too boring with not enough fire, then
perhaps

numb-zombie-infested conditions
have quarantined the brain
guessing at our name

upon the resemblance
of
experience

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s