the heart of the stone
makes no noise
when it beats
the heart of the stone
does not bleed
when injured
the heart of the stone
splits in the cold
cracks unseen
the heart of the stone
is the heart
trapped in my chest
The stuff that comes out a bird's mouth.
the heart of the stone
makes no noise
when it beats
the heart of the stone
does not bleed
when injured
the heart of the stone
splits in the cold
cracks unseen
the heart of the stone
is the heart
trapped in my chest
i will build a pyramid
i will use bricks made
from the ashes of the dead
and blood from those who
delivered them into the cold
mother’s embrace
the mortar–ah the mortar
every word uttered
from mouths darkened
by the pitch of hate
it will rise above clouds
survivors will be forced
to climb its steep steps
in spite of the thinning
atmosphere
atonement
comes at a price
and the damned and the dead
have an infinite number
of fingers to point
at the living
i want to turn
my hands to stone
let them harden
the way my heart
slowly becomes
a smooth orb
of cold marble
there is a world of mirrors
that needs smashing
and my hands
won’t cease
won’t heal
won’t quit bleeding
where you walk
stones split open
underfoot
and voices of fire
whisper the secrets
of worlds below
where you tarry
lavender springs from the earth
and the air fills with
the conversation of bees
and the whispers of hummingbirds
where you sleep
the stars weep with bitterness
envious of the earth
upon which you lay your head
and the darkness
seeks to cover you
like a mantle