Wednesday, September 12, 2012


This is where my world was born,
everyone’s too. I was too young when it was born to rear it properly, but hid as it jumped and screamed and broke all my simples. We all hated ourselves for it. Beyond the fence few workers continue reassembling the skeleton. The dirty flag was put there. Now, silence stole my friends and I at this end of pilgrimage. Now the atoms were heavy. A skyscraper of patches stood for a conspiracy thinker, a solemn air-shooter, a people. I’m failing to not look at the ground.

1 comment:

  1. Very interesting imagery that evokes strong feelings of helplessness and hopelessness. There is also enough left to the imagination that readers can draw their own interpretations as to what the fence, flag, and patches represent.