My Graine

by Kel_Onta

I see cerulean stars
In a perishing parish with
Statues holding cloves
Below my unpainted toes.

Too tepid to be careworn
Plaid memories shiver
Residing on a bent nerve
Along ashen photography.

Mix two wooden spoons
In a boiling pot on the ground.
They melt into carpet
Unsettlingly ready.

Spiked throne of quietude
Sits not on my severed skull.
Lobe to calcium over and over
And over and over.