I am so sedimental, but
the subtle differences between me and the crumbles of earth
are growing overwhelmingly stale.
when rocks are crushed, they are used to build up roads and homes.
things unknown to me.
those who collect these gems uncovered by time
will sometimes worship even earth’s smallest private parts,
carrying them around, close like a golden tick,
but there is no joy in keeping the crumbs of what was
at the most
a half grown, tiresome treat.
toss me into the water, drawn in by my flat surface and smooth curves
and watch me catch a breeze and sink to the bottom.
i’m no good at skipping, but it’s okay
because you’ll find another at the edges of the earth.

Here you are.
There I am.

You’ve watched me weep over unforgiving coals,
but I’m losing heat in this September weather.
Quickly, you rush to me.
No words, no wait, no space.

You hold me now, close to you.

Looking at me with ravenous eyes,
you inhale my facade,
wondering how it would feel,
to be filled with my colors.

I say nothing.

You pull me nearer,
and dress me with your ideals.
You don’t ponder my past, is it that you’ve forgotten a future?

But you cannot forget what never was.

You never question my composition, or maturation.
I, your acquisition, lie hopelessly,
waiting to be devoured.

No insurrection here.

You see me as rapidly festering flesh,
so that is what I become.

You’ve won.

A Walmart hotdog on a Wonder Bread bun.