anon_j_anon (anon_j_anon) wrote,
anon_j_anon
anon_j_anon

pt 2

These double lives we lead
Converge.
Unravel like thread caught on a train
Rushing into the station
Naked on 96 waiting for the transfer
Yarn unspooling
String stretched across the platform
Like an artery
Cords of blood out of nostrils

These double lives we lead are dense.
Deep enough to contain complications
Small enough to be bounded
By a body framed in bone
Strung together by blood
Standing on feet on a platform.
Feet!
Double lives have feet.

Do you ever wonder how it feels
To be bloodless and boneless?
Tags: writing
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I do not wonder.
I remember.
Every time my blood and bones give way
I remember
and I search for blood and bones to borrow
for a time
from another life,
another's life.
A life imagined
because real lives are not mine to take or use.
But imagined lives are plentiful.
One foot holds the weight
(my left foot holds the weight),
the other pushes me up and forward
(my right foot pushes me forward).
Blood
spilled as ink
or toner
does sometimes spray someone's face
standing on feet on a platform.
(I apologize.)