Thursday, January 29, 2009

the first fistful of muck.

burgeon bravery
to have left behind...

the porcelain wives 
with their lipstick and sharp knives,
slicing sweet melon dreams;
hollowing out their bodies.

all to slap on a smile, for a peaceful short while;
they no longer recognize lies nor prolonged suicide.

burgeon bravery
to have left behind...

the husbands busy calculating numbers,
calloused fingers multiplying bones in their slumber;
by dawn it will have amounted to nothing other
than the day before and another hunger.

burgeon bravery
to have left behind...

little faces younger than the fight,
little faces illuminated naive;
the waves and screens and batteries 
will quietly command, "do not let them free",
silently sucking them into the apathy
that you had evaded

evaded the persuasion towards incarceration;
you disengaged from the equation
of the majority of the nation.

burgeon bravery,
to have skewed from the derivation,
fear.



greetings.

hmm. this is kind of strange. i have just built my own little niche in virtual space and now i'm listening to my voice echo between pseudo walls, or my own head. like i'm talking to myself. i guess i am talking to myself considering no one knows about this place. yet. maybe i'll keep it that way. maybe i'll keep rambling. no, no i won't do that.