Silence-
stifle the breath,
for just another moment.
Bind up the wounded underbelly
before bloody vitality seeps out,
drip, drop, upon the laminate white-
perpetuate your fruitless fight.
It is no use. This is fatal
because you think it is fate.
Gate the dam! Erect barricades
to push against the vanquishing current.
Clench your teeth as you grip,
grip hold of it like a hot, piled plate.
It is no use. The words tumble out-
gather them!
You fumble for
each petal
of the bouquet, fallen,
awry.
But the wind steals the pieces away, to frame your future.
Careless.



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