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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
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Copyright 2014 anaksunamun
Published on Monday, June 16, 2014.
Filed under:
"Poetry"
Comments on "tinsel."
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On Thursday, June 19, 2014, Magdalena
(615)
wrote:
And this is how I have believed it for a long time, Our bodies are the host our spirit resides in and our conscious is not hard wired to our brain, it is outside of us like an aura and never dies.... You put it beautifully. There is so much more to us than flesh and bone.. Captivating piece. :)
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On Monday, June 16, 2014, haunted
(850) 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.
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On Monday, June 16, 2014, Swirly Skulls
(11) wrote:
This is really cool. Like listening to Bauhaus.
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