we’re all victims of thought.

ask the skeleton watering his roots; the flower blooms,

as the muscle beats to the pitter-patter tune. grow emotion,

miss the allusion once the canvas is painted raw but new:

follow your heart's a pretentious phrase; cliches are only broken

when society begs for their way.

& while eternity’s too many syllables for a broken word;

crumble the note. light the match, blow the smoke,

we’re salted ash and broken bone: watch through eyes

that aren’t your own, blind? those truths bind.

you’ve burned the innocent, cry. tragedy’s an overused

drug for me, sorrow’s simply ugly; bloodied knuckles

drying, gold tears staining. the statue of an angel mocks me,

we adore mythology; i digress.