8.02.2008

Photos

every last one torn apart by furious determined hands, leaving nothing behind, cutting your hair and changing your name, crossing a sea and beginning again, tearing up even the photos left around the heart, and the cold wind in your lungs. To be half-ghost, to die a mimetic death, to suffer the insurmountable mercilessness of it; ashes in the eyes that never wash away.

1 comment:

J. said...

That one's for AJ.