elizabeth 3

 

Should I look forever…

or,

does it even matter.

Lazily, leaving the dead…

where they belong.

 

Searching for answers…bloodline long.

Again, another, swan song.

elizabeth 1

The air I breathe…

had been,

the air…

you breathe.

Nothing more than stone pillars of deceit.

 

Cannot turn back now.

Over underpasses,

blank faces of autonomous cases.

In between the yellow lines…

nothing but life by design.

 

Hostages have claimed desolation and reservation.

We are, you and I…

birds of a feather in poetic procrastination.

Mercy and misery

Common cousins

baptized in the brook…

chapters to a closed book.

 

Gripped and stripped at the picket fence.

I found you, as the day, you had left.

Named but nameless

Victim but witness.

I had hoped to be impressed.

Elizabeth, ‘I hear you calling but I can’t come out today.’

Speechless, before me you lay

Yet, I have found nothing is what I should say.

So, a stone has been found…

and,

by blood we will be bound.

elizabeth 2

Strange, as the earth conforms to my dismay

Ashes to ashes,

dust to dust,

as the story goes,

I will have come this far to…not know.

 

To not know what happened down below.

To not know what happened down below.

 

Letting bloodlines go

Letting bloodlines go in order to revive.

Odd, it is the dead who remind us,

we are alive.

 

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