Do you ever wish you could just peel away your old skin?Chapped lips and bitten cuticles.Acne scars and dark circles.Peeling away to fresh, new skin.Stripping away the marks of anxiety that dominate your features.Born again.Staring over with a clean canvas.Maybe this time you won't make the same mistakes.
The earth is a clock.Their clock.I watch their eyes drop, like their shoulders.Unwilling to hold up the weight of the ticking clock anymore.Frost begins to play with their features.They are crumbling under the heavy hands of the clock.Asit dictates beginnings and endings.All they want is more time.But their clock can't make exceptions.It just presses on.Cold.Heavy.Infinite, perhaps.No one knows for sure where the clock began.No one knows where it will end.
my lungs spread their wings to catch the updraft of my breaththe warmth of my breath brushes my lipsmy tongue curves around the warm soft wordspainting them with careful strokesi love youmy tongue is leadenit shapes the words into existencepolishing them into a semblance of truththe molten lie drips from my lipsburning my mouthi hate youmy tongue smooths these new wordsgently shading them to lifei'm sorryand this time my face mirrors what my mouth shapesi am truly sorry
The warm sun is failing, the bleak wind is wailing,The bare boughs are sighing, the pale flowers are dying,And the YearOn the earth her death-bed, in a shroud of leaves dead,Is lying.Come, Months, come away,From November to May,In your saddest array;Follow the bierOf the dead cold Year,And like dim shadows watch by her sepulchre.The chill rain is falling, the nipped worm is crawling,The rivers are swelling, the thunder is knellingFor the Year;The blithe swallows are flown, and the lizards each gone
I never lost as much but twice,And that was in the sod.Twice have I stood a beggarBefore the door of God!Angels -- twice descendingReimbursed my store --Burglar! Banker -- Father!I am poor once more!
The weight of misfortune has stooped my shouldersBut I don’t intend to stop for a good while yet;I afflict my own destinyAnd don’t want anyone to mourn for my fate.I’ve made peace with God on my lossesAnd agreed with him on the epitaphsThat should be written about my senseless wars.