"expletives" poems
Tell me you love me,
As you gaze into my eyes,
Leaving kisses for all to see,
In violet, yellow and cerise.
Show me your fiery passion,
As you scream out my name,
Expletives a mere expression,
Of feelings that drive you insane.
Make me feel your adoration,
With your bruising touch,
With the heart of a nation,
To make me love you as such.
Jul 28, 2015
Jul 28, 2015 at 8:42 PM UTC
sometimes she daydreams about life the way i do about death. it's ironic, i know: black and white aren't meant to be grey and the rumbling hum of expletives digging into mauve lips pass through like desaturated light to translucent statures. it makes everything seem sweeter than it looks. she thinks the ache feels lukewarm, just like those half-hearted smiles she gives out like presents on a holiday, and she may be right. pain is not cold, it covers your entire heart with microwaved fingers, leaving burn marks that leave chars and ashes. snaps the purple heartstrings and clumsily tries to mend it.
(i love you because you're corporeal, she murmurs, you keep me sane)
she's spider-webbed, sung gossamer and silk while her bar lines drip with ink. and she seems moonstruck—because of me she says and blooms throughout my epiphanies. fancies herself a ghost, a wisp, something ethereal that lingers on my lips like a kiss. and she lingers, oh she does. toppling from the skies and collapsing into my rib-cage, she stays, blushing rose-like and thriving. velvet and constellations of blood clots patter against her skin. it blooms like she blooms, a paint splattered canvas meant for all to see.
Jul 28, 2018
Jul 28, 2018 at 2:50 AM UTC
A boneless,soft,small flesh,
Most beloved to God,
A truthful tongue,
Most hateful to Him,
A lying tongue.
It is the sharpest thing on Earth,
Can be deadly,
Pierces deeper than the spear,
Leaving scars forever.
It is the most difficult thing to control,
Think before you leap.
Like a ferocious lion on the loose,
It will wound someone,
So put it on a leash,
Reap its fruits.
The most powerful and dangerous weapon,
Explodes with expletives,
Lucid and sweet, a lullaby,
Can take you to great heights,
Bitter,vulgar and full of deceits,
A heart is wrung,
From a pedestal you fall to doom,
It is the taste of your kind and tender heart,
Pours speeches full of grace,
A medicine that heals,
A balm that soothes.
An evil heart,
That spits fire and crushes spirits.
Lastly it is the companion of the lips,
Seal and zip the lips so no unthought words escape,
Imprison the tongue with the teeth,
Lest venom pours out,
To break strong bonds, and powerful relationships
Jun 25, 2018
Jun 25, 2018 at 7:32 AM UTC
*Expletives are explored
Requisites are implored
Grooming artificial intelligence!*
Bharti
Aug 20, 2015
Aug 20, 2015 at 10:56 PM UTC
There once was a proper noun,
who started hanging with the wrong crowd.
With alluring adjectives who handed out compliments like candy
− gob smacking gossipers with an opinion on everything.
And with thrill-seeking adverbs,
who buddied up to the most dangerous of companions;
crash, dive, hurl, and gamble (to name a few).
Until the day the sentence came rambling into town,
planting punctuation in the form of kisses
on the noun’s eyelids, earlobes, and collarbone.
Provoking such admissions as, “My thighs stuck
to the black leather seats under the hot, cloudy skies
of that August afternoon, and my hair whipped
like willow branches in the wind,
when I rode on the back of his motorcycle.”
or, “He greets me every morning with a sun-drenched kiss”,
and, “The tulips were picked fresh from the ditch of
a curvy, country road, but now sit in a
vase by my bed, and are slowly wilting away.”
It would eventually be made clear
that the sentence had a nasty habit
of propositioning prepositions,
only to leave them hanging,
and to place things in parenthesis,
that simply did not belong.
And so, the sentence would wind up leaving town,
or “run-on”, as the noun liked to tell it.
Went chasing after some particularly provocative expletives,
eventually trailing off with a faint set of ellipsis...
And the kindest of adjectives
came cooing after the noun,
calling to her; lovely, lustrous, listless.
And the adverbs brought with them
their gentlest of friends; comfort and console,
to speak with the noun:
softly, tenderly, lovingly- all witnesses.
But it was of no use,
and the noun whispered quietly:
“I have been enchanted with a single kiss
which can never be undone,
until the destruction of language.”
*based off of the poem Permanently, by Kenneth Koch
Oct 28, 2013
Oct 28, 2013 at 4:24 PM UTC
in an omnipresent haze
of cerulean blue
and vivacious velvet petals
where irises swim in lovely chaos
as I mutter several choice expletives
under my breath.
He burrows himself
deeper under my skin
stealing the breath from my lungs
rousing my beleaguered soul
awakening a feral need.
I relish this murky maze of desire
he elicits from me
and hungrily
await his return
Aug 19, 2021
Aug 19, 2021 at 7:37 PM UTC
*(Blackened tissue beside debris of bleachd cocktail
Power pundit in cubicle
A ship in shadow-pieces passing by, unnoticed*
smoking water.. now costs getting kickd out ur xafe
Your blood lies in a high-account and all the stampz areMelting
Crawling in a desert, accusations shave the top off my black land
Did failing the test lead to a power-packed punch in strands
No time for treagedies clogging up the freeway
Twenty watts up the waterfall and your ride is here
Befits a ceremonial decapping
Catch ur vogue latte on the way out
Come aboard by jet and then expect a red carpet, soaked dry from the spoils of erstwehile-smugglers
Let em bleed green notes till the moths all come round the flame
Wait for it… the flame grows hugher… and int it all…………poof!
That was easy.
Don’t chuckle out loud when expletives slidie down your back
Like champagne off the shoulder of your ne-xt planet’s ride
Duck in time cos the butters hard and the toast is dry
Four friends over six decades carry grudges heavey enough to pump oil to lakes
And the unexpected happens.. the one they didn’t watch, wwent missing
All eyes on the little one.. no, you didn’t catch them all.
You became immunes to the skills you advert-tarted and sqeueamish set in
you didn’t know casn host violence in a putrid-robe?
One finger pointing out, makes at least three in.. to the pointer
How can one planet swallow so wide a dichotomy in plasticky degrees?
It’s too wide this time to make that jump – we will ingest what weve been giving all along
And some end up well-funded while others simply dwell.. as frogs in a well.
sun can climb in sometimes, but for half an hour
their fingers are small for the mine, keep small the issue
don’t cry when it rains in expectorata
I think frogs can swim.
*when do I ever learn that..
I am simply a frog in a well
near craxks )*
21feb
Feb 21, 2014
Feb 21, 2014 at 6:49 AM UTC
A fear of crazy turned
Psychotic
****** Rotting Cakes
Dribbled sugared wax
And the birds spat out
Their alphabet
Out
Pouting expletives
At an earless void
Too Sweet
Incomplete
A single (W)hole
Freezer left to boil
Aug 30, 2014
Aug 30, 2014 at 2:02 PM UTC
Specious speculative salacious spectral season
Transmogrify trapezium traverse torsion treason
Erotica errantry erectile endogenic emblazon
Ghastly gnashy grotesque gristly garrison
Larcenous lecherous lascivious latent lesson
Entelechy ethology exsistentialize extant epsilons
Spurious spry squabble subtle specialization
Transient transitive tour de force teleportation
Encephala enunciate endeavor executant emulation
Garish gaudy gambit glitch granulation
Lurid livid liaison limpid laceration
Extravaganza expletives expeditious equilibration emendation
Sly stodgy surreptitious spatiotemporal solicitor
Taciturn tactile transcendent tertiary torpor
Euphoria eminent equivocal exserted emancipator
Garrulous gustatory gung ** gestational gesticulator
Lyricism lilt liberation lambaste levitator
Escutcheon exergonic epaulet exodus extrapolator
Starkness staunch spectacle stolid stultification
Telepathy tantamount tractive tellurian transmutation
Exonerate euthenics exegesis entourage eradication
Groaty gnarly gruesome gristly gastrulation
Licentious lewd lacunar laconic limitation
Extemporaneous exigency embark embargo extradition
Slinky slick sultry stoical snout
Transubstantiate torturous temerarious tumultuous tout
Eucharist extortion enmity epithet eke out
Gross grit groin grove grout
Lentic leister lotic lothario levity lout
Execrating eventuation evocative evitable excerpt bout
Jan 19, 2016
Jan 19, 2016 at 3:59 PM UTC
She tells me,
"You're very self aware,
You know what, why and how you do things,
Yet you continue to do them."
I explain to her that I never learned how to ask for help
So I only ever knew how to look to myself for the answer
Which has led me to become pretty creative with metaphors
As well as entertaining internal monologues,
Like when I explained to her that my parents look at me
And see a knot of misfortune
Without looking at all the threads that I'm comprised of
Which led them to this conclusion of me.
She asked me if I ever thought of harming other people
To which I noted that I tend to play fruit-ninja
With peoples faces
In my head.
Though I'd never actually do anything,
Just as I'm able to keep a professional demeanor
Giving no hints to
The constant stream of expletives in my head.
She asks me why I don't feel like I have friends,
Which leads me to disclose
That I can't tell if I work too much
To spend time with friends
Or if I do it to distract from the lack of.
I laugh when I regale her
With how I recently bought a yoyo
Because it is relaxing
And makes me feel like a cool kid
That would be part of the gang in Hey Arnold,
Stating that it's been helping me with my panic attacks
By focusing on making my yoyo
Go around the world,
Pretending it was me,
Circumventing my lack of coping mechanisms.
Iliana looks at me, with her mouth slightly turned down
Attempting to keep a straight face
Though her brows still knit together in slight confusion
As she asks me how I'm able to say all of this with a smile on my face,
"Well," I state, "I don't have time to be depressed."
May 3, 2016
May 3, 2016 at 12:31 AM UTC
considering reflections!
spectacular expressions excited by vernacular action
spicy and exotic erecting complexity!
forgetting the selective dyslexia
mental anorexia like pecs flexing
lacking dialect donating directions!
elementary subtraction of expletives
what the heck do they expect!
exclusion unaccepted
best guess reckon you're a wreck
what the heck no explanation!
Dec 18, 2013
Dec 18, 2013 at 3:38 AM UTC
Feel breath upon milky neck
give yourself
the sacrifice
for unchained paradise
and the gifts of life.
Thrusting forth upon such shapely form
the rise of golden **** and the
glide of swollen *******
such feline majesty
such magnificence of deviance.
Lay hands on nubile skin
deft and swift precision
straddled in muscular passion
the reins like a flowing mane
gracing the arched spine in pleasure.
Tilted head stretched
exposed form
catching dancing shadows
in the eternal midnight.
Call my name
as if a name
were a pulse wave
of unreserved expletives.
The chastity of yesterday
innocence lost in devilry
offered freely
like a gift to the gods
empower revelry
chemically.
****** Deeper**
Give Give Give
again and again and again and again and again and again and...
No refrain
awash in pagan sweat
doused and dripping wet
revel in cobalt aquas
close in the rise
of final exaltation
the Alpha stanza.
BOP/bop BOP/bop
hearts beat out of time
heaving breath
encased in bone and heated skin
consumed in the juices of forever
and the pleasure of
pagan archaic sin.
Jul 25, 2014
Jul 25, 2014 at 5:22 PM UTC
I sleep with the pigeons,
I sleep under bridges,
a deteriorating photograph
is all I have.
She left with that winner,
the one that looks like an athlete
but he's actually an artist
you know, the one that gets noticed.
I can't blame her, I've lost it all.
These are the types of injuries that occur
when the ethics are below your pay grade.
So now I sleep under bridges,
the grass is my bed,
and I
bathe with the pigeons.
I keep a hat on my head
while I read the paper with my shoulders
hunched over, although I don't
get cold anymore.
Agitated at how this guy has me figured
out, I just want to throw him on the ground.
I look up at the board in front of me
now and see
that Bukowski has me cornered again
and I want to scream expletives
as loudly as I can, but I catch myself
just before I begin to vent because
the three and four year old children
all around are the only people that
don't yet hold me in complete
contempt and I'd like to keep it
that way.
Apr 23, 2012
Apr 23, 2012 at 11:23 PM UTC
*blinded by startling light,
can one really
see?*
mild visions sitting in the dark corners
of shame
strong options flying about
in wild abandon
demanding resentful attention
no epiphany on the steep edge of nerves
just constant and silent grating
escalating the fatalistic complexion
of old wounds
seeping through the rotten bandage
of sickening pretense
rank blood-clots scream such fine expletives
your curling toes may not cope with
which one is chosen..?
dual visions
of life and death
opponents on the same board
no coercion in choice
neither works solo
third option hides
beneath the burning scales of judgment
live through life and death
cut through the slices
of pain
even serrated wedges are better managed
than large edifices
yes, far better to
CRE8 options
than swallow the superb crap that Life shoves
just, who in hell said:
there's only one way...
*visions can be
overturned*
S T, 9 July 2013
Jul 9, 2013
Jul 9, 2013 at 3:45 PM UTC
The colour of addiction,
Transparent,
Translucent,
Visual in ***** dreamers,
Black minute slivers,
Black graphite,
Waxy as moon rises,
Poisonous,
She's a lush,
One on one,
She's out to steal your heart,
Corrupt you,
She's all out to catch you,
Hook line and sinker,
Product of a clever thinker,
Wants to make a buck,
**** some b****er with his muck,
Such evil *****
Mischievous tinker,
I met her on my way,
Played just once in steep stupidity,
She was lovely,
Delicious head fodder,
Chasing on as dragon dancers spewed their guts,
I was sensible,
Tried her once,on one occasion,
First was last,
Then I forgot her!
Never ever,
No more to dabble,
With her heart so fetching,
As such effect 'Smack' has!
She'll leave you wretched,
Retching,
While strolling on air,
Your feet ,
Well, the floor's not touching,
Head floats imperially,
Impervious to her stranglehold,
She is cruel,
Don't visit her,
Be not a fool,
****** in any guise,
She's so f**King uncool!
By ladylivvi1
© 2013 ladylivvi1 (All rights reserved)
May 13, 2013
May 13, 2013 at 4:34 PM UTC
Play me like your instrument
Reach inside
And find the notes,
Unplug the headphones
And watch me float
On natures music
If you should choose it.
Reach inside and unzip
My second skin,
Stroke the snare as
I watch,
Strip me, lay me bare,
Prepare.
Reach inside, and pull
Back the sheets,
The clink of springs
A xylophone,
Trickling out a tune,
Soon.
Reach inside, and pump
The pillows, watch the
Noise filled pause billow
Out rest stops of tension
And apprehension.
Setting for the show
Change emotion with the motion,
Now
Reach inside and grip
My heart
It's urgent bass beat cues
The start, the warm up
Of this performance.
Now.
Reach inside and slip
Through my blood,
Your music shivers
Up my veins,
An invisible trail,
I beg you,
Take what remains
Now
Reach inside and ******
My lungs away,
The heavy gasp of breath
Beats beatbox any day.
Take them, they're yours.
Reach inside and whisper
in my ear,
Unleash a hum of empathy,
Steer me, clear me
from the coast with the
Ships of my hips.
Take them, they're yours.
Reach inside and pluck
on my strings
Take your pick and
Weave your way
Within.
Take them, they're yours.
Reach inside and finger
at my chords
The ****** of the piece
Applause enough to live on,
Each gasp lingers, strong.
Take them, they're yours.
Each gasp lingers through.
Clear
Reach inside and find
the notes,
My lyrics soaked in
Joyous expletives
Raw and sensitive,
Take them, they're yours.
Take me, I am yours.
Jan 14, 2014
Jan 14, 2014 at 11:09 AM UTC
Feel breath upon thy milky neck
as he gives thee the gifts of life
Thrusting forth upon such shapely form
the rise of your golden **** and the
glide of your swollen *******
In awe of such feline majesty
and the magnificence of such deviance
Lay hand on nubile skin with deft and swift precision while the other holds the reins of a flowing mane
Gracing the arched spine of pleasure.
Tilted head stretched and exposed form catching the dancing shadows of eternal midnight
She calls his name as if his name was but a string of unreserved expletives
He growls letting the beast within ride out the demons in the deep
and the now forgotten chastity as if innocence were taken but in truth offered like a gift to her gods.
And he takes thy gift gladly
And in return
Give
Give
Give
again
and again
and again
with no refrain or moments peace
awash in pagan sweat and revel in thy cobalt aquas as his close in the rise of final exaltation.
Two hearts beat as one,
heaving breath encased in bone and heated skin
imbibed in the juices of forever
And the pleasure of
pagan and archaic sin.
Jan 20, 2014
Jan 20, 2014 at 7:07 PM UTC
I am covered with
Excreted expletives
Light bleeds between my fingers
And merges with tears.
Words are weapons
Spat jaggedly, slicing cruelly
Into gentle dreams,
Silence is the final, finishing cut.
Leave me smothered
In dislike and disdain,
Leave me shaking,
Naked and in pain.
Aug 19, 2015
Aug 19, 2015 at 11:03 AM UTC
Swanky sauntering swagger of a sashay. Verve’s chutzpah, moxie savvy's panache, dexterously agile acuity. Articulate coordinated excellence and prowess’s talented exceptional. Objectified manifest's eidetic prospectus's invertible investiture's infinite possibilities perpetrate incorporeity ideology's perfectible ontology!
Intrepid intuitive intrigue, mystical magical multifariously versatile nefarious nemesis. Malfeasance evocative tout, execrating eventuation evocative expletives, executant tour de force entelechy's apotheosis. Ne plus ultra irrefragable opulence, erudite illuminism numinous piquant poignancy. Dynamic livid lurid vagile puissance. Lucid orotund sonorous fecund resilience.
Eloquent exuberance felicitous transcendent epiphany. Nuance tactile audacious preternatural metaphysical clairvoyant imperative. Augur quantum ominous avant-garde profundity, virulent vivid indomitably indefatigable cogent fatidic, quintessential deft. Celerity innovative veracious metamorphic, adroit nimble avid austere.
Fulgurous astute atman clever crafty rapacious sagacious. Effulgent zealous fastuous temerity machismo enunciation diction, imperative repartee. Exserted protuberance educement proclivities succinctly ostentatious. Ardent arduous inductive adamant incursion ostensible hornswoggling swashbuckler!
Aug 14, 2020
Aug 14, 2020 at 2:55 AM UTC
Words are fun to play about with -
to rhyme sometimes, or simply shout with.
Textured words with rich deep color
that vivify those words much duller;
phrases culled from a private stash
to give your expletives panache.
Cause shock and awe - gain admiration,
with erudite vituperation!
So let your language soar unfettered
away from tired words four lettered.
Jul 2, 2011
Jul 2, 2011 at 3:06 PM UTC
I used to consider chapstick makeup.
I used to consider using conditioner “doing my hair”.
Now it takes me 90 minutes to deem myself acceptable enough to show my face.
Where did that carefree attitude go?
It used to be that the lengthiest part of my morning routine was brushing my teeth.
Now my makeup covers scars as well as blemishes.
Now calories are not something I’m studying in a small elementary school classroom, but deceitful numbers that bury themselves into my mind and thighs.
The beach used to be a safe haven to splash into and gasp out of.
Now I dread the idea of squeezing into a bathing suit.
I cry at my reflection and shout expletives at the scale.
I starve just to keep my demons at bay, and cut as a peace offering.
I use Percocet as an anesthetic for the pain of waking up in my bed everyday.
I wish I could say I used to make love, but since love was not used to make me, how could I?
I reach out to those ever-growing shadows and I cling to the corners of remembering.
I do not fear death, but I fear the memory I leave behind…
Nov 26, 2013
Nov 26, 2013 at 1:27 PM UTC
Take these tears from yesterday
And kiss them all away.
In the shuffling long, long line..
..stood men from another world..another time
Dressed in linen shirts and boots and kipper ties
Men with tired sad..grimy eyes.
And in the Labour exchange a man would say
Ninepence ha'penny...unemployment pay.
This..
..for men who had gone to war
And evened up the score...crushed the fascist state.
Why do they call this country great?
Those men who sat beside the Thames..
..and with one stroke from Sheaffer pens destroyed us all.
But these proud old men..did heed this country and its call.
Left the fields and left the ploughs..the pits and mills
The rolling hills where they were born
A forlorn hope..for a brighter day
Kiss my tears from yesterday away.
Why do they call this country great?
This Island state
The ancestral homes
Of dead mens bones.
Expletives long deleted..hope depleted..future boarded up.
We will not drink a cup and sing to..
Auld lang syne.
Feb 20, 2013
Feb 20, 2013 at 5:09 AM UTC
Grumpy, middle-aged woman at work,
I wonder if you see me staring in your direction.
I, once again, notice your big hair,
tousled and littered with springy grays.
I, once again, notice your blouse,
dribbled with escapees of your breakfast and lunch.
You’re tapping your foot
to an eighties ballad on the radio—
the same one that we hear twelve times a day,
and each time, I grit my teeth and
begrudgingly swallow the godfather of all expletives.
But you? You love it, don’t you?
No qualms with the world
as you grip that vending machine Klondike Bar
like it’s your only saving grace.
I can’t even manage to blink
as I watch you peel back its thin layer of foil,
exposing the poor chocolate shell
that will soon fall victim to such a savage mouth.
I shudder at the thought of what you would do
for a Klondike Bar.
Your eyes are wide, black, and merciless
as you crunch into that innocent little square.
Flecks of dark brown fly in every direction,
as you writhe in some sort of hokey ecstasy
straight out of a grocery store mom-erotica.
I can just hear you grunt, “Waste not, want not!”
as you individually finger up
each tiny piece off your keyboard.
I hear your lips smack with every satisfying victory—
and I cringe.
I want to tell you your ice cream is melting,
but I’m too busy watching it drip
down the sides of your hand.
In no time, this Klondike Bar
becomes your own personal rescue mission.
You must desperately save each and every sticky streak
with your unforgiving tongue.
Now and then you’ll slip in a satiated moan
and I can’t help but feel bad for your imprisoned dessert.
Unfortunately, this vicious cycle continues with each bite,
until you become the resident hot mess of Cubicleville,
smeared with melted chocolate and covered in a sugary sheen.
Despite the spectacle, it’s nice to see you happy for once.
It ends when you finally notice my gawk.
That quickly, you’re grumpy again
and demand to know what I’m staring at.
“Nothing,” I reply,
but not without a smile so coy
it gives me away.
Apr 15, 2014
Apr 15, 2014 at 4:59 PM UTC
Down here at the bizarre bazaar we all believe in the blasphemous farcical fugue-ness, estranged ensemble orchestrations and all. Similar states of analogous configuration and ancillary subordinateness in fact. Various assorted forms of related stranger weirdness. Preterite orchestration renditions of synthetic synthesis’ retrospectively retroactive. Accidence ambience acoustics, aorist actuator’s arbitrational attenuation. Explicate eventuation evocative expletives, amalgamated anathema android wind up toys. Gambits of alluvium aloof impunity! Enigma entity’s identity crisis.
May 29, 2016
May 29, 2016 at 7:13 PM UTC
All I've ever had in my possession were bones.
The framework of a biological nuisance, something empty
on the inside, though full of what any of us may call life.
At the least, the semblance of which we can be convinced:
parading a corpse across the bridge, most talented thespian in space;
and medicine, the hobby you picked up so you could learn to ignore death.
You are too old, now, to foolishly believe you can outrun death,
the inevitable silence that haunts your dreams and soaks through your bones.
You breathe in too quickly, too aware of the emotional cavity, of the space
between your thoughts and your actions. Your words have always been empty,
a reminder of the very symbol of your own faith, though you aren't convinced
that you, yourself, can ever measure up to that vivacity that floods his life.
Repeat that in your mind, over and over; that the anomalies in this life
can be proven as effects of the reckless and the brave, that their death
is ultimately yours to cause or to save. So, of your own importance, you are convinced,
and you know you are the best, always have been -- always, Bones.
So don't waste your energy on the thought that all of his promises are empty
and trust, instead, that this lunatic, this love, will survive all of space.
There's nowhere for you to escape this bitterness; indeed, no space
for you to claim as your own, your sanctuary. No chance of a separate life
when you've had all you can stomach of this insanity, this empty
endless game you've boxed yourself up in, until you surrender yourself to death,
to the simple cessation of your repetitive motions -- but, no, Bones;
he will never stop. His life will continue, his body and soul immortal -- of this, you are convinced.
No, he'll keep on going, as perilously as before; of his invincibility, you are convinced,
but you, yourself are, as ever, determined to follow his failures through space,
to diligently spout your expletives and condemnations and advice; you are now, as then, his bones,
and you never forgot that. Just as he never forgot who takes credit for his life,
his bones, his common sense --- you alone have, time and time again, forced death
to hang its weary head and return and yet, his own promises are empty.
You've learned to scoff at his vows of safety; his idiocy, you could handle. Still, empty, too, were his promises of faith. His loyalty, he proved, but you stay thoroughly convinced
that alone would he remain, had you considered your logic. Somehow still, like death,
the logic was an inevitability, and you learned to detest one trait in all of space.
You can see his faith fading as it goes, as logic proves itself a thief of your life,
and you lament the truest fact of all -- no longer could you be his bones.
And so I've managed to pull my empty shell together, as he never could, for in space
nowhere can I hide from the death of my ethos; yes, in space alone I dedicate my life.
And I am, as he was convinced, an honest man. I end as I begin -- with all I've ever had: Bones.
Oct 3, 2014
Oct 3, 2014 at 10:53 AM UTC