Thursday, December 3, 2015

Hypothesis: 'But Then You Write a Poem and You're Fine'

Bone cave. Capable of holding the life of death. Perhaps waiting
is death enough. If only convincing was needed: all will be well;
all manner of things; be well, be well. Been swallowing placebos,
knowing their lie—they prove less effective when death is needed
for biology festering inside. Maybe truth is void—death without
life. Only in the mind—this narrative of mine—a personal Hell—