POETRY
Living Dead Lands
Cities that seep
You have yourself always did — instead you keep digging into your picked-over pocket full of terrors for calculated currencies of errors but how about two pennies for your thoughts? such costly gazing gadgets never on sale as priceless what about knowing your mirrored mind and where your heart pumps its bleeding binds?
You now notice your white footprints draw black flames you didn’t even realize it snowed — white powdered roads settle you into a winterized cage and you’re tired of waiting beyond fall your cold bones rage and seasons change without opinions or reasons forcing you to release load-bearing loads
They say the city never sleeps but it’s dying it’s already dead it already melted into living dead lands — did you check its pulse? did you speak it into sweetly stale lies? did you watch it seeping souls slowly into pristine jars trying to breed lives into control like sludge simultaneously cementing the streets under an old clock with maddening chimes that never speaks sometimes?
You always feel naked thoughts buried yet bare but your exhausted legs so lusciously long with tight jeans and ripped seams echoing your pace with red leather and broken lace making sure you were seen but not watched — images never erased black tie events about faced but those days weren’t about your heart and now the bucket is empty blindly broken and already used pretending now eludes
You can smell the hungry beast with your calloused eyes but you can’t see it surmise that you can’t get lost in the city of empty lies when you realize you were dead long before you arrived
You lay on your back scanning lonely skies for seedling stars but street lamps impale your mind’s eye all you can see is gore the smell of green grass elopes with the trees the tide long turned artificial automated and autotuned a festival of machines
It’s all just become cities that seep salty years bleeding gold and frantic fears as you bellow your horror into the night screeching your alien veil into new light always alone you wish for home to take you back — blackened skies answer all whims nature is as near and distant as the dark side of the moon it all beckons you close it beckons you to think with your very own beautifully faulty forsaken mind