Monday, December 8, 2014

mainfestations of detachment

Like a pinch, it would feel, that's what doctors warn
before injecting aliens into the body
it is sudden, the rush of fear

Like a thorn, soft and bendable
the prick hums with a newly discovered sense of life
it is landing, cushioned in a field muddier than your regular track

Like strangers in lonely cities
roaming the corners for an old phase, phrase or luck
it is the realization of singularity within the multitude that nags for satisfaction

like the end of a spindle, that's the reality of detachment
by bullet-holes, needle ends and distance
uncommonly common, it is hard to remain hopeful
when metal cuts through you.

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