Thursday, October 13, 2011

Like Striking a Match

The intensity and steel bending heart weight
Came on so suddenly like a canon shot
Through a paper-mache me. Usually it
Moves so gradually like a forest fire lit
By your last cigarette, but
Smoky the bear was fucking kidding himself
If he thought he could see this one coming.
It was just a few faint words that
Sent a shock through the earth and
Burned everything above the knees.

The pillow must have tasted like
Over-seasoned chicken soup, acting as
Earmuffs for a devastated, overstimulated crowd.
There's nothing less haunting than the here and the now.

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