dghouls

I Folded A Guillatine (poem)

Smells like used nicotine
And fresh desperation.
focus flows like mercury,
fluttering hand hovering foot situation.

A tired heart,
thick blood, thin veins.
Every chamber constricted
ready to pass some blame.

Strong scarred hands
Used to holding situations.
Grasping mist and misconceptions
Hung heavy helpless, at empty salutations.

This papers atomic weight
Greater than it's actual composition.
It's composition more empyrean
than it is an imposition.

So I folded a guillatine
It's edge couldn't cut me.
It was grasped, guided, gilded
just as it should be.

A smile
A good word
An honest heart
My crooked hands.
Bent steel.
Stopped time.
Cheated death,
and straightened lines.