i am crushed symbolism
before i am human
and i find myself charred
when considering a beginning--
i'm a left-over shade
of others' diminished responsibilities,
that glows unevenly in tepid air;
where satan smells profit
and so savours the increments
of my ideals
to reveal deliberate flaws
within my frame:
i have a punctured heart
and my lungs
run to rhythms of losing self
while i cry as cinder
to the words of a stolen girl,
who stored her despair
in a multitude of intonations
whilst denoting her dreams
to a scream of a frown.
i become diverse, as i dodge
realities
that play me pure:
i am merely the scent
of my own sound...
unknown until formed as freak
beneath waxy sighs.






9 old applause
