Moments and smiles
are spiral roses
woven out of fate.
Swift untidy scribbles
that define life
turn out to be absurdly beautiful
in the dead of the night,
after giving out
breaths and sighs
of secret, swirling smoke.
~
Howling dogs
with ununderstood messages
cry desperate.
Old guards
blow their whistles at midnight.
The whistle piercing through
the fake silence.
'you...are...safe'
The whistles want to say maybe.
But it seems
the old guard doesn't know
that everything, at all times,
is getting plucked and sucked
into a black hole.
An infinitely complex knot
that ties over into itself
as you try and try and try
to untie it.
~
Everything is a disease.
A visual misconception
somehow bound together
with these uncertain strings
that makes you dance on its will
day after day after another.
It's absurd and bullshit and beautiful
because tomorrow, or one day
everything will vanish
into a whiff
of stinking, cigarette smoke