miercuri, 23 ianuarie 2013

Conflicting words and blue knees

this is my place,it's always been so,
at a step's slide from misfortune.
my knees are blue,they've always seemed so,
even when my skin turns in the summer
from chipped ivory to gold.
a pen and a paper,it's always been so,
the way to decide whether you bear
a black cross or a shimmering crown.
murmurs and pleas,they've always been so,
mischievous ways of making a heart
grovel back and forth.
sprawling indecision,it's always ended so,
that I cannot cage within the arms
of strangers or scented vows.
hallow bones and words,they've always turned so,
a means of escaping the past
that's still lingering in the present.
a clump of papers and a chair,they've always come so,
the pair to make or break me
when temples are pounding like drums.
a churning skull,it's always been so,
the device of solitude and wonders
and beautiful monsters.
this is my place,it's always been so,
within a hand's reach from the unknown.

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