My necklace is a rope,
and my pendant-- my boulder heart.
It snaps the nape of of my tired neck
while my knees quiver stubbornly, locked and trembling,
until they give way with my hollow spine.
A paralyzed portrait on the petrified pavement,
people walk all over me,
careful not to step on the cracks that engrave my porcelain corpse,
oozing out rivers into the soles of their soulless feet.
And now with my fragile frame and my heavy heart I wait
for the world to crash down beside me
and the debris from the wreckage to cover me
from the tepid breeze of the storm staring me down.
Apr 7, 2015
Apr 7, 2015 at 8:10 PM UTC
My necklace is a rope,
and my pendant-- my boulder heart.
It snaps the nape of of my tired neck
while my knees quiver stubbornly, locked and trembling,
until they give way with my hollow spine.
A paralyzed portrait on the petrified pavement,
people walk all over me,
careful not to step on the cracks that engrave my porcelain corpse,
oozing out rivers into the soles of their soulless feet.
And now with my fragile frame and my heavy heart I wait
for the world to crash down beside me
and the debris from the wreckage to cover me
from the tepid breeze of the storm staring me down.
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