have/no mercy

no sense makes sense

Bodiless, bloody, bearing my teeth, no flesh left to pull. To cover my sins. Here lies the death of me. Tributes to be confirmed. Reduced to ash. She can no longer walk with us here. She presents herself in the wind that toys with the willow tree. You can find her at the water, rippling viciously. Her plight is showing, still. If only you care to notice. And listen - hear it in defiant bird song. One who doesn’t care to let us sleep. The light which dapples concrete. You must hear me. What has meaning and what doesn’t? Who assigns it? Who is allowed to ask the questions? One persons treasure is another’s trash. How long can this last? She sticks like a grain of sand in the eye. There must be a beyond, past pines and feathers falling faithlessly. No form that holds them to be seen. Can you hear her sorrows, loudly as the doves cry? As the wind gathers itself, rushing through the narrow alley at night. Takes you by surprise. No longer held back, her horrors reflect in the face of every man who stares a little too long as you pass by. Painted on each stranger you walk beside. Wailing a death rattle, she slams against me. Learns to push back. Walls old and damp rock to and fro. A whirlpool. Sandstorm. Twigs that snap underfoot. Passing between hands silently; moving through lands with the changing clouds. Will she reach her destination? The mystifying, gargantuan, open ended question.