Did you hear the cries of the severed ones,
who left a trail of blood when they left the road,
taking the wrong exit and using the wrong gear.
Well, the handbrake's broken and they're falling down
back to lonely silences in their old hometown.
Bullet holes in their capillary walls
with bandaged hearts and a fractured smile,
they march forward to the beat of your poetic call.
Showing in your eyes was all the pain and denial
of a thousand wasted moments you wanted to keep.
***
I wrote my apology on a new slate, and wished
the iridescence of your butterfly wings
would shine again; I hoped I missed
the cut-off point: some things
just hurt too deep and won't slip away.
Degeneration is replaced with exhilaration
is replaced with degredation is replaced with
electrification is replaced with dejection ...
My feet are bleeding and the streams are overflooding,
but I'll keep walking up the hill because I know
you're waiting at the top. Somehow I'll get there
just to lose my footing all over again.
