(somehow
it just never worked out.)
Even with the trails of the labyrinth slithering across ridged cartilage,
an Ouroboros that chokes on the tip of its tail, shallow breaths rattling in the ear shell,
the lingering sigh ghosting over bitten fingernails
is not heard.
It’s so
heavy?
They disdain question marks
with the twitch of bleeding lips scraped raw with mindless blurts and murdered blots.
Yesterday, the Son was raised into the torn heavens, sheathed in the warmest candlelight.
He was cloaked in Crayola wax and lifted in a net made of thousands of prayers linked together.
Today, the sun was set on the lap of the
mother who only dreamt awake with lidded eyes.
Did you know?
…She was blind.
As in, blind as a bat.
Couldn’t see nothing. Zilch. Nil. Zero.
But the chuckles always bubbled in her shawled throat, whenever she shrieked, “Checkmate!” with her rainbow set of dice.
Tomorrow,
there will be
blubbering pens and regret lodged underneath incomprehensible tongue.
Also, note the curls of wind tangled within the skein of yarn,
grandmotherly needles clicking in and out, burning wrinkled dimensions
into feeble ashes of paper cranes.
For all we know,
Mario Kart is played impassively,
poker faces and joker cases and smoker traces and choker laces and
OH MY GOSH, THEY BROKE HER faces.
But then,
we careen across meshed wires and clunky controllers, trembling with a vibrant passion
shouting, thumbs smashing against the A B X Y Z buttons!
teeth flashing as our carts plunge ahead, bounding from neon mushroom to glowing mushroom to
abyss.
“GAME OVER.”
Just a disappointingly blank screen.
Bluuuuuuuuuuh.
….Dam-Dagnabbit!
(somehow
it just never worked out.)