Of Every Now and Then

November 11, 2017

I dreamt that we were rushing,

Rushing into a blackhole,

The world squeezing into unreal binaries,

Like it means nothing to live or die,

We are all doomed to hurt,

Hurt with one another,

That seemed to be the only solace

 

 

 

I could swear that my back is breaking,

It is leaving through the tears in my eyes,

I hear about the Winter march,

Red bands bobbing on weary arms,

They carry in their pockets little pieces of cloth,

They will use it to muffle their voices

 

I keep a list,

I will remember them by the screams,

A choir of the forgotten,

Effluents blowing sparks into a little greenhouse,

Where they will burn up and burn out,

I will water them everyday,

Hoping to nurse them out of the blackness

 

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