gtrubov
A spool,
A needle,
and
Thread.
Ravel,
Unravelled,
Woven
white
Thread.
Colour spewed upon a canvas
In a basement, pipes
Crawling along the ceiling
Dripping moisture.
He sits
Alone
Content.
In love
Not with a girl
but with life
Equations stacked
on chalkboards
Chalkdust like
Fairydust, only
More magical
(or more profitable)
A cold basement,
A mathematician.
Alone
He drove up in a limousine
with Tinted windows wearing
tinted shades
Hiding both from
the sun and
people.
It has been a long time
Carrying your burdens
and mine.
It has been a long time
and my shoulders are sore
I am weary,
but you need me.
I will keep walking
"Remember, remember, the fifth of November: The gunpowder, treason, and plot. I know of no reason why the gunpowder treason should every be forgot."
Violence,
but is it dissent
except perhaps
a dissent of humanity
Where, perhaps
an idea is more important
than life.
A last resort
The last, hidden
Blade. Stolen
From a sister's
Broken Razor.
A last hope
or none at all
As it all comes
crashing down
A last tear.
Fill our canteens,
Sun hot overhead
Sand hot in our boots.
Fill our eyes
endless dunes
Muzzles of our rifles
Scorching in the sun.
Drink.
A fire in my heart
"Light my way,"
I will ask.
And you light my way.
The darkest hour,
and you call out
Flame in hand
Ready to light me on fire
Ready to burn my heart
and from the ashes
Arise a new me
With your torch as my heart
Your fire as my passion.
Come back!
That was mine...once
Now I suppose it is yours.
Take it, then.
TAKE IT!
I do not even want it any more.
Run.
RUN!
I do not need you anymore.
I do not need you.
I, alone, am me.
(Come back...)
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