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Almost Heartless
The paper is incarcerated
In the redolence of tobacco
Yet, I brave the spangling wine
Running down the temples
To pull a marionette
Inebriated by the bedlam
Shackled in these pillars
Of security where I curl up
Like a marred moth
And lazily putrefy,
Haplessly flapping wings,
Ripping the gilded strings
And becoming a garden
For perfidious butterflies
And I vied, tried, groveled
Swallowing the soldering pride
Dispensing the heart
And claiming the magnitude
Of this quake, of a mistake
A heart breaks,
Another gamble lost
As the cards burned
Before my fingers.
poem
by
Norman Santos
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