Weakening Constants

created by alcoholicpoet.com

this poem is about the evolution of self and/or the lack thereof. 

 time bites its lip as it begins to speak. still corrupted by yesterday's idling engines.

their bodies like templates. pieces and puzzles to be solved. in the brutal hierarchy of touch.

our eyes steal moments from the abyss. our voices cut meat from their corpses.

the truth is tender. everything else is sharp. survival is merciless.

the days count us as we fumble through the fog. eyes wide, still unwilling to see.

gravity simmers inside us. patiently waiting for us to reach the edge. 

Filed under: September 2024 Sad Poetry.