Tuesday, April 28, 2009
Still motion. A punctured organism of its own. Steel casing.
Throb. Hand on my chest.
Fall apart, on my sleeve.
Bypass go, collect grief.
Open. Ready. Beat. Beat.
Evidence of microscopic inflammation.
Can't live without working, pumping.
Quicker wounds, slower, weaker, wiser pattern, stronger.
Welcomed into your cradled, paused embrace.
Longing for thee.