Cut my heels
make me click bone.
Make me decide where I'll root the ground with my red.
Sulphur incarnate
I am tired of my Sodom.
I'd prefer the wax to the breath.
Today-existence is a burden
because tomorrow it will be me
who limps with nothing to lean back on,
because the earth on my heels
wasn't mine.

 Children cut from shapes of despair ( Read more... )