I have become the monument
The broken toes
Inebriated in a temple debt
These moanings crept
Into the wooden wounds
And I have quenched your thirst
You are the arrogant soldier
Sent to the trenches
You return silver
To my yellowing fingertips
I am the monument
Expressionless as my master
Who wriggles with glee
In a retirement village
As I bury thee
In the tar eaten ground
You are death
As are so many of my men
Yielding axes to tear at my
Stone flesh
I am the monument of men
Who depress easily
And pop pills
Fraying at the edges
I will never embody you
And you lie
Stoned in the ground where you belong.
Comments
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oooo*twiddles fingers in delight
This is excellently written, slightly above my intellect this early in the morning, but amazing all the same. i especially like the last line. "stoned in the ground where you belong" because it has so much depth to each meaning that could be chosen. keep on keepin on! ♥K
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