Suicidal's Hair Color On Hallows Eve
anthony:
it costs so much to dye i'd rather leave
for cemetery and contemplate there
a template of my death: twenty pesos
for these twelve half-lit candles. Three
lone prayers for one soul. One
shoe sole for every walking mile. Two
coffins buried today, no unwatched slot
as everyone waits in slotting their beloved's
human carcasses.
Five hundred pesos
for another semi-used dead box. Six
times this darkness and a half note of silence
you think again of this unlit candle, unvisited tomb. Two
nights and two days and two special weeks of eating grass
and loud silence in the middle of a hot humid light. Four
dead lousy skin sheets unnnoticed, undone, as passers-by die
in the middle of the night
anthony2:
Inks are costly and knives are dull, poisons
gape through my innards clean and immune and sins
flow past the heart and through the lungs and back to another
sin of lost hunger: they multiply and slither across the guards:
millions of sins multiply in billions of pieces yet no slot
these days is empty and hell is full and heaven's a dollar;
it costs so much to die i'd rather live.
it costs so much to dye i'd rather leave
for cemetery and contemplate there
a template of my death: twenty pesos
for these twelve half-lit candles. Three
lone prayers for one soul. One
shoe sole for every walking mile. Two
coffins buried today, no unwatched slot
as everyone waits in slotting their beloved's
human carcasses.
Five hundred pesos
for another semi-used dead box. Six
times this darkness and a half note of silence
you think again of this unlit candle, unvisited tomb. Two
nights and two days and two special weeks of eating grass
and loud silence in the middle of a hot humid light. Four
dead lousy skin sheets unnnoticed, undone, as passers-by die
in the middle of the night
anthony2:
Inks are costly and knives are dull, poisons
gape through my innards clean and immune and sins
flow past the heart and through the lungs and back to another
sin of lost hunger: they multiply and slither across the guards:
millions of sins multiply in billions of pieces yet no slot
these days is empty and hell is full and heaven's a dollar;
it costs so much to die i'd rather live.
Labels: Halloween, Sylvia Plath
i really like this one ^_^
forgot to leave a comment the last time..hehe
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