Our lives melted pubescent particles
Of defragmented gazes
Lonely hearts often somber
Unified by hands, fingers, bloody impulses
Beyond grace
I too found the glory
Silver leaded fantasies - bold
Like tierra batida
Fortunate enough to dig
From fall places belonging
Only to the unknown ancestors
To underprivileged replicas of our
State of
Emergence
Emerging
Emergent-sees
Branded in design fountains
Meat cleavers accenting our verbs
I like the abstraction of senses. There's a reoccurence of death and rebirth in words like, "melted" and "defragmented" to "unified," and "batida" to "fortunate, "underpriveleged" to "emergence." It's a somber tone, without ever laying it on so thick; so you can still see hope through those few positive words spread throughout.
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