(no subject)

[sovietwrench]

The scarred paint on the monolith has lost it's color. The creamy ichor upon it begins to peel away. Layers of plaster and sheetrock, crumbling to the ground. They reveal nothing. I should have known.

Sloth on Razor-Wire

A sloth
Hand over hand
Foot over foot
Hanging from razor-wire
Taut and narrow
Stretching forward
Bleeding hands and feet
Pulling closer and farther
Only more blood
More razor-wire

Rose

A rose in my hand
Petal and thorn
Shallow and free it rests

I close my hand
Clench my fist
It becomes me

My testimony
Through fingers tight
Drips to the empty ground