blooming

No one cares for me,
because I once cared for you.
futile attempts to invigorate the soil
with hands un-gloved, dirty deeds
to provide my life with some color.
I lost my five sisters, put-out
stars. embers burning at the end
of my cigarette, as the earth-
un-tilted. and I remember this:
a world once warm and smooth
ivy, scarlet, and melted butter.
asking without words, a war
was waged because of my lust
for change and because the sky's
face had fallen in the mud
no more up and adam, simply
down and down and down
and further out: such a price
for my birth-right, my freedom.
everyone is in black with hypothermic
breath, beaten about, winds-
inevitable and unyeilding,
as I turn forever blue
your beastly lips sewn shut
no more will these tender-
words, these tears, and-
my ears throb. when death comes:
will I be marked by anything but,
my selfish martyrdom, or
will the next decade prove
something else, for my
my constitution is either
being filled up by the sea,
or possibly a bud is blooming.