The day is clean shaven,
Presentable even,
When the city eaters and their svelte gray machines
Enter in through the back M- across a complicit river.
When the streets failed under the filmy force,
The people had nowhere to walk.
They stayed in their apartments and watched the world burn –
Carefully-
Because the landlord didn’t secure the railing
Once the grocery stores were chewed up and spit out
By an Eater called Fin
I fled to sleep.
Desiccated red like a rose picked apart
By the sort of angry young man who would tear the wings off a butterfly
For free.
Red speaks to me in a cracked voice.
She was a sultry with a temper.
Now her skin is a desert.
She tells me to avoid the heat of summer and grasp spring-
Before the boys become men by the river
I lay in bed at night thinking about that rose
And her love for me.
Hey guys. From now on I am using this blog for art and writing. I have another blog I will use to write more personal things, so family, faith, mental illness, and parenting will be discussed over there. This blog is a creative diary and portfolio. I want two separate blogs for two separate purposes. I have noticed in likes and comments that some of you are here for art or writing, and some like the personal posts. There is very little crossover. Time to separate these things.
Miniature Moon 