Sad Poetry: The Earnest Contraptions of Flesh

we are quiet as the world moves to forget.

our bodies dance to the subtle rhythm of time's dirty  engine.

while our minds struggle to keep pace. 

we watch the sky fall. as it often does.

confident in our ability to prop it up. 

but the world ends just the same. 

we are silent as we put our signatures on the disaster.

muted by the epidemic of want.

we listen as gravity catalogs its secrets.

animals with plastic claws. grabbing at the wind.  

the end has its tangles. all the simple collisions that turn choices into knots. 

we debate the ghosts that still insist. scavengers in soiled gowns.

still dancing. to music that has long since stopped.