snapshot

picture me
when  you’re thinking of leaving
buried alive by your plans
sand is drowning me
you’re pulling me down
don’t need this kind of help
i walk a crooked path
live in a twisted house
i spiral sideways
through the shaded rooms
whichever moon rises will guide me
contain all my stories
contentment s a four-letter word

picture me
when the grieving ends
white suits of mourning
tucked away
ritual baths and chants
spending time and saving less
incense is burning
long journey begins with just a single step

imagine me
while doing evil things
curse my name and future line
bury the bodies
in those coffins of glass
break the shovel and thrice deny
that institution of conformity
learning
when to stare and
when to cry

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