Sunday, September 6, 2015

Heroes

to be
famous?
foolish?


The World rests on the head of a pin
balanced on a lily pad
sitting in a secluded glade


The soft, still pool
holds the reflection
the emerald and ruby eyes
blood fed family


DNA unravels
in a magic dance
my drying bones to bramble turn
splinters
thorns


inside my decaying body
under my old, fuzzy skull cap
cured leather coat skin back
children sit warmly watching
as a million hungry monkeys
feast on your flesh

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