the wind
refuses
to cease
and exist
proof
of life
proof
of death
proof
of innocent
holes
in one\’s head
lobotomies
dilute and resist
faded memories
taken with no aid
to persist
truth
difficult
to swallow
especially
when the sour
breath of decay
lingers on ripe
flesh that relinquishes
all supple youth
and elasticity
of a once
fermented
being
who could
transform
into that of elegant
beauty — shells
we can always
conceal
souls on the other
hand know no
boundaries
CCIQ Press 