As far as endings go

I have not had much closure

with those


I don’t let go. I’m a barnacle

stuck to the sharp end of the boat,

who does not know it is

at the edge of

a big thing.


Headstones white, in a green

cemetery, look like white daisies sprinkled

on. She said there were observable differences

found in the mass field,

but these thousands of heads(tones)

were all the same;

names repeat

numbers are just patterns.

Death turns us all the same, I said.


When she turned her eyes at me,

they ran me

through like electricity,

swimming through water,

unable to find the

next big thing

to latch on to.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s