Exoskeleton
Wrinkles in dried-up goo
Bloody red in its cracks
Fleeting moods of yesteryear
Wobbly melodies of profanity
The big attractor is getting weaker
Or time is slowing down
It doesn’t matter for now
Hymns of steady inconsequence
Patterns vanish
A single line remains
4
Kudos
4
Kudos