I trace etchings on a polished slab. I erected this monument a long time ago.
No, maybe not so very long.
Stone by stone, built from rocks exhumed from the Path of Horrible Mistakes. Sanded down to glass with the powder of broken hearts and artificial affection.
I loathe the way the smooth grain bites the tips of my fingers. It's the taunting nip of a lover. There is artistry in it's wretched design. I recognize memories in the dusty grooves. Names I chiseled into the patchwork boulder like throwaway fortune slips. Seeking a better, brighter tower than my peers. Sleek and heavily carved with conquest.
There's only one name that still stands out against the litany of accusations. I carefully brush away the grime from that pattern of letters each day. I remind myself that the filth that remains on my hands is more than metaphorical. I prefer the stylization and depth of my final delicate inlay of years better than the rest, anyway.
10:23 p.m. - 2014-06-16
Recent entries:
Tossi Propter - 2018-07-02
Summerscorch - 2018-07-02
Heartdesert - 2018-06-25
Elliptical - 2018-06-25
Back and Callback - 2018-06-18
My profile
Archives
Notes
Diaryland
Random
RSS
others:
As-I-know-it
Nicim
Breathe-Salt
Swordfern
Star-Brite
Swallowthkey
ATwoWayDream
HumHum
Secret-motel
AndWeBreathe
MovingSands
WeAteTheSea