"Mom got me a flask for Christmas"
I walk on unsure feet
Strung on scarred up legs
Holding a worn out shell of
It cranes a sturdy skull
Cradling the strongest, beaten mind.
With eyes that can pierce any veil,
I wait— I grow.
"If you lose a finger to frostbite, I can’t be held responsible."
There is a grenade under the bed;
It’s smouldering there— waiting.
I ponder, when the pin falls…
If we weren’t already embracing, would the universe understand that
Wholly intact or not
Need to ragdoll around and into each other as we
Splatter through the air…
And fall to a meat heap in the cradle born by explosion.
3:35am 8 December 2013
Kitties (not my painting, creds to the artist)