Carrion
April 01, 2016
I wander
around
the same
familiar
bend
locked
onto
the scent
the knowing
that crawls
out
from under
memories
like loose
rocks
circling
my prey
fingers curl
reaching
into deep
intentions
there
is
nothing
blank canvas
oiled teflon
porous sponge now brittle
in the late afternoon sun
paper
ether
flesh
tearing
my way
out
with each byte
1 comments
Like the word play.
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