does my grief glow as a light
burning with greasy smoke
an overladen ladder bowing in the middle
teetering toppling
an unopened pack of cigarettes
calling forth
tiny daggers of eventual demise

the door sits cracked open
but i am unable to tell the direction
in which it leads
no strobing red light to illuminate the entrancing exit

a harsh cry billows
piteous porous
pumice long forgotten
the fierce heat it once exuded
a magnificent reminder
everything dies
becomes lesser than
hollow stone memories of engorged pillars wrought from mercurial flame


2 thoughts on “meaning(less)

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