Pulse

 

And we wish it was all about
the love…
the minutes sliding past, the pools
of blood, we wish that the door
never opened, letting a piece
of the black night fly in
letting an evil darkness prevail
replacing the stars in the bright sky
with simple shadows,
where once was a person
forty nine
once was an idea, a life…
lay the tatters of a broken heart
body and soul, torn by
an evil wind with guns and games
no winners, no mercy
a call to a god left waiting, for
an answer that would never
ever
come…to the blood blackened
floor
the holes in drywall
in arms and legs
in skin, in the moment
between being and being gone
a place where music was the point, where
rhythm was the essence, where
lazy life conducted itself
like a lover, a mother, a brother
a skewed stain on tiled bathroom floors
on dance floors
on doors
all to call notice
that
we wish it was
all about
the
love.

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