22 April 2012
I'll fill each tiny, beating heart With memories of dust and rain Which once complete reach a point Of no return, where they contain An essence, strand of DNA Each more potent with each thought Scribbled down in strokes of pen To replicate a clone of sorts
Bound, black volumes of my mind To be inserted, should the time Arise when bodies can be built To withstand all the blood and guilt And promises of expectations To succeed, made to relations Made to friends in friendships cause Now beyond this skin drawn taught
Tight on bones that bend and creak With every untold word that speaks Of disappointment, pride and joy Put to page in blotted ploys At immortality
And maybe that's what God did In some forgotten verse Inked his thoughts on paper Exorcised his hurt His languish and his pleasure Are massed in you and I We each are tiny, messy books Beneath a Moleskine sky
J. x
Little Black Books • Opuss № I