Being withOut being

alone, alone, alone

with no acquaintances and no romances —

man faces days of drudgery

 

he lives in a zone

where art never breathes but only freezes —

a space of temporal immortality

 

until his blood turns to poison

and the heart seizes —

a sort of capture myopathy

and so…

he recants the sermon

about LOVE; for his soul it never reaches —

but still raptures, thoroughly.

 

© Heath Muchena, 2014



Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s