I COUNT THE MISSING BONES
High with temple shadow in stone dress
i laid on altars wish in the genesis eviction
love torn into tiny dark voids
each peeling piece between a stars thought
cold hard the menace of boring step
tragic tongues drip
like unfinished movies they collect for return
in mimic the scratched blood
slow in the rivers pelvic thrust
falls thin on streams flesh
silent the objects placed stand waiting
burnt faces pile in vacant corner
sleeping walls trapped in inquisition
Age spreads onto fresh morning bread
a scent baked into the years
pressed within creased and missing pages
the mind
starts too count bones -
white no pink
stained in vein and artery
muscle that ancient pride
the youths fleeing stance
High on that temple
i laid
you watching
bent around a dead rotting vision
wait in perfect execution
high on this temple
this place in times disgrace
i laid again
always face to your star
Life imitates the slit throat
the given smile
today
i counted all the bones
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