Scattered
Frost water flows
Down the jaded
Sink of iniquity
Faster and faster
Trying to wash out
Benevolence and truth
Specks of sand
Dance inside my head
Flowing, rippling
Not a moment the same
In translucent regret
As my hands unfold
I hold
Throbbing perfection
Knocked into gore
Quick wrench and
A river of blood
Tributary connection
To the black and white tiled floor
Burst in vaporous breath
The artisan's hourglass
Lost count
Covered in a sheet
Of cherry-blossom death
'Scattered' JoSav 2002
What's it about? Time, perhaps, isn't the thing to heal these wounds. Perhaps it's best if you just shut up.
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