exaggerated movements
propel me your latin tongue
pierce the rising light
stutters and collapse.
these cursed onyx wheels
working, grinding.
reality: muted
c h a s i n g
her sticky beads of hope
g
l
i
m
m
e
r
i d
n o
g w
n
without hesitation,
glass faces
with no consideration
u n s e a me d.
limbs wrapped in woven mesh, jaded and bemused, pulse
twined
by inner-demonstration
impermissible ex silentio.
a wan resemblance
this comfort of memory.
