Sunday, April 14, 2013

its coffin

there is nothing alluring
beneath the surface
yet there is this sentence
there is its existence
there is yours
and every so often
it awakes from its coffin
and sneaks into mine
it just lies there
same as it did in its own
but lonely loves (my) company
so here we lie
in comfortable silence
irony at its finest
killing you with kindness
so silent

without a license i still drive you
to the cliff
you've reached it before
all on your own
but then you held the wheel
you could grip it and feel
the motions
then you were grounded
now uprooted 
like a tree
on its side
until the outside
moved your wooden hide
and carved you into mine

i lie in it often
your body
the coffin
its existence
gone in an instant
yet there is this sentence
the surface is endless

who needs the contents?

- afm

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