Monday, December 20, 2010

vii: procrastination

the time is not right yet
i can feel it in my hollowed-out bones
i think i'll wait another year

the sun crawls through the mist that spreads like ink
while the clouds descend upon the city
the time is not right yet

the wind cuts skin, leaving dead cells floating
like plant seeds searching for warm, moist soil to grow
i think i'll wait another year

like a sculptor, the winter strips us down to our veins
and builds us up again into fresh, new humans
the time is not right yet

i sit on the frayed rug in my cheap apartment
staring at the different methods of felo de se
i think i'll wait another year

what if my cat ate my body?
she'd die from food poisoning

the time is not right yet
i think i'll wait another year

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