Study in Still Lifes

Crystalline concoctions, guild gold
with soil, I didn’t get a bouquet

so I painted a field instead–
poppies red as a sacred heart,

cardinal’s breath against snow.
Brandon told me once I listen

to Crystal Castles because
I was born at the turn of tech-

nology: nintendo and machina
modified mind. But maybe the

synthetic rhythms are the only
cold hymns keeping my brain

from misfeeding–beating in
balance, or harsher. I need repetition,

I need the steadiness, I need
a pulse… We’re all happy until

something convinces us otherwise.
Then we’ll never be pure again.


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