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necrosis

necrosis

seeking my own council
watching clock that only tics for me

writing the dirge to be sung by a silent voice
on my passing

lest I forget
I am not this flesh, these words, or the vow of chastity
I have broken again and again

freelance pedestal of light
illuminates a lost cause

while
perfection glances at its own
faults

counting them on fingers and toes
of amputated limbs
still warm
as necrosis sets in.

vcp

30 November 2010

Style / type: 
Free verse
Review Request (Intensity): 
I appreciate moderate constructive criticism
Editing stage: 

Comments

Jayne,

Thanks. I changed it -- good idea.

Love,

Victor

"When a pickpocket meets a holy man all he sees are his pockets."

Unknown (at least to me)

author comment

illuminates the soul. Shine on, and be strong. ~ Gee

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