an offering
By Phalanx
When I think about other worlds
IĀ imagine anything but this.
When
time stops and begins to crawl
To the strange hum of an unknown clock
It speaks that it prefers to stumble
For time is only relevant
By a worthy occupant.
Tell me we're not lost and
I'll tell
you we're not alone.
Something in the sound of this nonsense
Sends
a message up my spine for me
To search the wreckage.
After all
spare parts make the machine,
A collection of memories and old phototgraphs
I couldn't burn because I would self destruct.
These things that
are a part of you,
Moments grafted in place of
A birthday suit
dissolved.
I am not the man I was.
Could you love me none the
less?
There's no such thing as a casual inquery or
Gentle question.
We are all looking for something we can't talk about.
I've been
quartered before and
I am no longer afraid to suffer.
It's what
I know.
Suppose I burned for a moment
To light up the night sky
Spreading the ashes of all my sins,
Would you fly to give back your
dust?
Comments on "an offering"
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A former member wrote:
Our pasts are what makes us, without them we are simply hollow shells, for better or worse the best part of memories is that they belong to you.
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A former member wrote:
"For time is only relevant by a worthy occupant." A very reflective batch of words you've composed here. Nicely penned.