With twisted interest
we watch the newsblonde
shot dead Live on TV
immune to an angry culture
we
search it out
watch her die
again & again

As I pondered thru rivers & streets
& breathed dusk of lemon scents, I
chose an ancient star to gaze & waste my
contemplations on;

In my writings, I bled my soul
to give life to the distant star;
I wasted all the words in the world.

Then she was gone. I sat alone with a poem.
I was never enough,
but I was alright.

I’d exchange all the things I’ve ever loved
for a chance in the sun.

Her poetry is a song
Sung by the earth itself

scent of plum blossoms
on the misty mountain path
a big rising sun

rip out my throat
and rake your claws downs my face
cut at my skin
lean in to me
and remind me that love is just a distraction

do not leave me breathing
do not be weak
drive your knife in to me
until my breath rattles
and my eyes still
and remind me that love is just a illusion

wear my skin like a cloak
my blood staining your mouth like lipstick
wear my words like a crown
and my hands wrapping around you, like a belt
and remind me once last time, that love is just a weakness