Harvesting emptiness through trees with no contrast,
a metal plate from a dumpster blocks the blood to my head,
and inside the skull, the tiny white worms, who only spread so far
in a year, are shaving what’s left of the inspired part, the part
that kept me alive until this moment when it gave in to pulls
of all the trees who know how to live, who know how to sit
in quiet, not brooding about their situation in life but laughing
at us who are filled with the white worms, who have no chance.
-
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stillfugue 
#1 by Carl D'Agostino on September 12, 2011 - 3:35 am
Must the white worms prevail?
#2 by Evelyn on September 21, 2011 - 12:32 pm
The white worm stuff makes me think of Shardik from the Dark Tower books by Stephen King. They slowly killed the half bear/half robot, who was created as a guardian for the spokes of the tower…
#3 by Carl on September 22, 2011 - 9:44 pm
I don’t know the Dark Tower books. I know the fear that the worms create.