The building of oceans teeming with exotic fires
of life,
inside this old piano.
Like mother's ships in a bottle-
Delicate yet prepared for immortality in the grass'
record books, like wearing a suit while waiting for
the call.
Ink shaping the veins of the crumbling architecture,
Zeus doesn't care for the contractor as he pulls
brothers and sisters from his knee.
I'm leaving anyway-
to the piano.
Always and on repeat.
No comments:
Post a Comment