Living Room

By Stone Bryson

Magnify the pinholes...
glance but do not stare.
Particles of compassion -
slipping through the air.

Metallic blades are stagnant...
cannot cool within.
Penetrating pages -
breaking heart and skin.

Photographs are bleeding...
mirrors sweat like rain.
Opinions dance like corpses -
with lemons and disdain.

A sacred book of fiction...
collects the dust in case.
Paper tubes of poison -
fills a mind with mace.

Stretched to capacity...
the fat inside the thin.
Remind the flesh of image -
that which is viewed as sin.

A heartbeat in the trophy...
the hollow... and the crypt.
This is not a living room -
there is no room to live.
 

Copyright © 2008 Stone Bryson.  All Rights Reserved.

Written August 2008

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