"We hide behind sheets of words and sometimes find comfort on wearing them proudly. I have unbowed my bloody head with the things I have killed and revered what I have immortalized. I will continue to shield, maim, murder, pine, ponder and slave over the very words that force itself out of my body but leave its hand clutched on my still beating heart."

-Darrel Pobre

Friday, July 29, 2011

Glass

When lightning touches sand,
there is a certain anguish to its poetry
as glass, delicate by nature,
is forced to curve and glitter
in crystal motionless immortality
aching to shatter into dust again

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