He was a captain pirate of majestic spectaculars and
an infested fungus that hung on canopied securities.
Everyday we walked pass visionaries: career planners,
and maps on how to get there- such elaborate pettiness
stressed with such elaborate certainty. He would sulk home
and count the scars on his walls. While he pondered
on the three thousand forty eight functionalities of the cell wall
a fortress was built: one that relied heavily on lightweight dangling.
One that made you ponder about soft birth and canned uteruses:
maybe it was as vile but scientifically he would
laugh.
Contractions at the diaphragm and larynx and sometimes
retractions- but always to contract more.
In the rapt way he laughed and cried
about pretty boys: how their bodies moved and their issues uttered
in lack of depth and were still beautiful. Only if he would
Retract
to contract.
Reply With Quote
