The Crush
Yes, I'm
surely fond of high walls.
Crushing
on them. Hard.
Over and
over again.
Crush,
crush.
Till my bones just carve their way out of my skin.
Undressing
my unloved frame.
Desperately,
scraping their
honed ends
against
the cold-stolid bricks.
Over
and over again.
Crush,
crush.
It's
raining tonight,
you
are not here,
and
my thoughts don't want to stay the night.
Aflame, withered dust thrust in suicidal rage
into
a wintery, oblivious battlement.
The Shattering, Unconquerable Wall.
Farewell,
bones. What a waste of a life.
But what's left in this vast, dull horizon,
what's
going to catch fire
in
the ashes wailing inside?
What,
if not a wide ocean
of
impossible, fatal walls?
Nothing else for these boney embers
rushing
towards all I will never have.
Farewell,
innocent senses.
Crush, crush
Crush, crush
