because while some truths lend themselves to equations, others are best described in verse

the state of things

bleeding heart

disgusted and displaced
grubby fingernails scraping
cheeks far too often turned away
until they are blotched and swollen,
hair unhung, awry, indifferent
to the shape of a mouth
or the taste of blood;
and eyes–most definitely
until with a stricken bang and
burst of floodlight
their blue-green-brown wariness is
startlingly revealed for
a world which has already
turned its back
to see.

2 responses

  1. newcolour

    So, that is the cell you told me about, uh? So amazing and romantic at the same time. Is this poem inspired in any way by that?

    September 26, 2008 at 4:28 pm

  2. Bindo

    Wow, that’s a cell?
    too cool..

    Another home run for you!


    December 18, 2008 at 8:03 pm


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