Sometimes the moments of clarity bubble through and you can almost get it.
New smiles, or loved lips?
Time leaking by, snickering in the shade of the blade.
Nights blasting and the flesh alive.
Imagination, when strong, can flip the tables and roll back the skull.
If I had to put it simply, I’d have to say I do not know.
I can be ok with that as long as I can believe.
That there really isn’t an answer, a hope or an ending.
Just air, sun and dying meat.
I can almost hear the flies.
