blather
lovely_decay
(_) beautful woman
lies down closes her eyes
sleep
envelops, a cloud
settling down

clock
hands move languidly
around a porcelain
face caressing the time
that passes through
ticking
can be heard
outside the locked door

only sound
besides her breathing
and the endless
pattering of rain
that wears the roof down
breaking off the shingles
as people leave
and don't come back

her breathing slows
yellowed white dress desintegrating
around her pale
pale skin
lock cracks the
door swings open

breathing stops
hair stark against the
moldy tile
and birds fly
into the room and attack
her lovely body
perfectly blue lips
051222
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z well written 051223
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jane the statue of liberty is only green because it is copper decaying 051223
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oldephebe that's what the fuck i'm talking about - every line ripping right through the bullshit of those emotional and liguistic filters and all those post modern and spiritually and morally and aesthetically effete postures and exudates of exhaustion or a kind of hip and updated kind of nihilism meets post 60's existentialism - but damn the poem is more than just a devestating summation or encapsulation of a symbol sealed in verdi gris..more that just a rhetorical implication it is the song of a beautiful womans soul - she went away from home filled up and returned to that little town empty and stirred the streets stirred the hopes and dreams and slumbered decadense and the days when she turned the rope and held the quarter tightly in her fist and she stirred the truth come back from the dead in that little towns hearts when she returned home but in her heart in her eyes she is already breathing shallowly on the crest of a cold mountain - i saw her there, i see her there and it destroyed me almost to know that i mean it left me sitting curled and withered caved in on the floor to know that if i were to break through to that vision, to the secret realm where her soul truly screamed quietly behind the glass in that exile, that heavenly realm with room for only one - what do you do when someones voice is screaming inside your heart? there are shards of glass upon the soles of her perfect dancerly feet, there is tumult and rage and an open door of an abandoned cabin once warm and full, but now the door is swinging loudly on its hinges and it rests upon a mast of wet leaves in the darkness of a forest whose floor is teeming with creeping crawling things bred of the abandonement and abuses and neglect and betrayal... it's screaming into the door of her uterus, it's broken to door down and sent a thousand splinters to lodge and rot into its walls

and i just wish some of us men would get it, would just get a fucking clue and realize yeah maybe sometimes she does need to be rescued even if she's too strong to say it - it won't cost us that much you know? just to be somebodys hope, somebodys dream, someboys deliverance in a hundred little ways of self-sacrifice - just listen a little more closely and stop living out of our selfish hearts for a a while and say "Here am I, Her I am, I am completely for you, and I live by your desires and whims, I live to fulfill them even if it tears me down ultimately for I can see in this moment you're hurting more than I am and even if you're not I won't feel my pain if I am serving you, if I am scooping out the glass and splinters in your spirit, if I am tending lovingly and expertly and with my entire being led by gods light, led by the washed light beaming from your eyes I don't feel any pain knowing that I've made yours less" why the hell can't we say that to our wives and lovers and friends and even sisters?

anyway life z said nice writing (__)
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051223