the letters were not
into walking slowly
the reptiles were not
into running
off the midnight
that glamourous chasing
cases in which there
were no more
shots taken
every morning
tied fists
tired of sincerity
killed the beasts
tired of the mess
the label
the tattoo,
the shame
the victim of
the burden of time and space
the words are not
into bestiality
of mindless creatures
of a moon
off the stage.
go and re-arrange.
celine charcoal
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/noting/
