willing

These are just memories
nothing new but dirt
and that's just recycled
blood rust and hurt

The plants growing ragged,
rugged and raw
tendrils out seeking
the light from Gods maw

The rocks have no ability
to stick to the shore
not that they want to
they don't want any more
but they did when they were animals,
flowers and trees
now they are blissfully unaware
of hurt and disease
of impending apocalypse
of hunger and fleas

I'm just forming memories
like scales on my back
like scales in a kettle
some memories stack

but some things just won't settle
and my spine starts to creak
and some of these memories
make me not want to speak

there's light at the summit
a blistering heat
God yawns through his fingers
the morning is sweet

but I wish I could stop eating,
stop yearning to live
If I were a bit more discerning
I'd cease to exist