Sunday, March 6, 2011

I'm out...

... That's all you need to know

A broken record, Broken more with each
repeat. Broken thing standing on her own
two feet. Begging release by painless sleep.
Till he offers, opens his coffers, home

in exchange for hearth’s newest, bright,  purist
flame.  “Tiny spark” He sings out, coos softly.
“Which path is fairest, Though mine be furthest
When respite means only not dying slowly”

And repeat and repeat. Vinegar turns
sickly sweet. Traps flies and martyrs alike
with a breath of relief as they both burn
and repeat and repeat. Losing their sight,

while the rending flesh she can’t help but hear.
Bargains and backdoors close shop out of fear.

1 comment:

  1. Sweety, first off a poem? Really? You know I loath poetry.

    Secondly, damn really? Stormy and I had /adventures/ planned that we were going to tease you with because you couldn't come because your dumb ass got stuck in jail. Ah well.