Saturday, February 7, 2015

Paper Doll

Paper doll

he is light

skin holds a yellow

tinge, texture designed

by wasps, a rhythmic rise

and fall hurried slurried

respiratory almonds grind

aspirated madness... one breath

after the other

‘til the last.

he is nothing

in his feeble frame

state of being

he found his zen

like that of

an amber waxen

paper doll he

lays lite in these arms

contemplating, yet ponders

crinkles on a beach

the afternoon sun

dries away a life

in constituent form blows

across the sands.


No comments:

Post a Comment