what we have known

The bony hand inside of me loosens it's grip. To examine it's long and shiny finger nails, and perfect glowing skin. I gaze into it's palm through parts translucent and weak. I gaze at every dry water bed making it's way towards the ends. I ramble and I search and I plot it's demise. And I lovingly caress and embrace it's familiar shape and form. It is right and left. It is me or a simulation of me. An enigma for a time. A chest of overflowing ivy and dirt and things of the earth. It has been many things to many people. A splitting atom, a razors edge, a wall of silence, a wall of shame. To me it is a feast that never ends. A feast with small bites and large spoons. Empty bellies filled to the brim with hollow stars and a curdled moon.