tinsel.

By anaksunamun





















Inverted beginning out of time.
breath is the purest noise, as if sound could correct you
snuff out the opera pulse. I can not sleep, for thinking it doesn't really matter which way the head falls, when you die .












what stays, glistens now in the spine.
you never see beyond.. but through, and leave the troubled skull behind.


























â–²
















.








































..

















â–¼

Unauthorized Copying Is Prohibited. Ask the author first.
Copyright 2014 anaksunamun
Published on Monday, June 16, 2014.     Filed under: "Poetry"
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  • haunted On Monday, June 16, 2014, haunted (837)By person wrote:

    amazing ana, your words are written like cryptic spells from a book full of shadows. I read this several times and it just got better like fine wine to the lips. excellent poem my dear.

  • Swirly Skulls On Monday, June 16, 2014, Swirly Skulls (11)By person wrote:

    This is really cool. Like listening to Bauhaus.

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