Sad Labels:
acceptance
,
dark poetry
,
sad poems
,
sad poetry
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alcoholicpoet.com |
no colors left to see. we spoil in the lingering math of seldom utopias.
all of our skin removed. we shift the bones. rearranging the splintered puzzle pieces.
their fractured images continue to call our names.
the nebulous proprietors of touch dig their tunnels into our flesh. the body is an auction. the highest bidder owns it.
the numbers tangle. spent by circumstance.
the truth scrapes against our grief.
all of our words misplaced.
impotent gods stomp their feet. as time's machines collapse.
every open window simmers with secrets we can no longer keep.
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