life is so deceptive sometimes - - -
the veins of the brush
purged onto papyrus,
& obliterated every statue
carved onto the page.
she fingered the rusty filters
in her ashtray, eyes hiding behind
preoccupation.
"it used to be like automatic writing -
those angles that fell back
and kissed boundaries,
pounded into the cement
& I can't etch away much more
before the curves become welts."
Author notes
Picture from: http://s436.photobucket.com/albums/qq82/DaniNicole16/?action=view¤t=909.jpg
I know that it's a guy in the picture... but this just really got the ball rolling for a poem in this series. I hope that's okay. If not, feel free to DQ.
AN: color me silent, was x--Atelophobia--x
A contest entry
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