Dec 2018
just two silhouettes walking
never intersect, done all their talking
parallel lines, this road’s been taken
the path is set with no equation
he did the math—no explanation
no words to describe this excavation
the broken bones, the muddied holes
tried to force the pieces, guess he’s got soul
tried so hard to wash them clean,
but the truth whispers behind the sheen.
pressure wash, sludge swirled the drain
from pressure: bruises, exposed the pain
rinse away the dirt, the cracks remain
prevents infection, still poisons the brain
got any guilt for me, or still just the same?
soap suds and lies can’t erase the shame.
never intersect, done all their talking
parallel lines, this road’s been taken
the path is set with no equation
he did the math—no explanation
no words to describe this excavation
the broken bones, the muddied holes
tried to force the pieces, guess he’s got soul
tried so hard to wash them clean,
but the truth whispers behind the sheen.
pressure wash, sludge swirled the drain
from pressure: bruises, exposed the pain
rinse away the dirt, the cracks remain
prevents infection, still poisons the brain
got any guilt for me, or still just the same?
soap suds and lies can’t erase the shame.
compost is a collection of broken down, decaying materials. you can use it to grow new, beautiful things but they won’t change its origin.
you can’t wash your hands of guilt, even if you don’t feel guilty. you can’t hide a grim truth under whatever’s clean and shiny. you can wipe the blood from the wound, but the wound remains. no matter how much you clean it, they’ll still feel its pain.
you can’t wash your hands of guilt, even if you don’t feel guilty. you can’t hide a grim truth under whatever’s clean and shiny. you can wipe the blood from the wound, but the wound remains. no matter how much you clean it, they’ll still feel its pain.
