The Centre Cannot Hold
Were we to rest
upon the pale gray crucibles of your
dancing with delight on expired destiny
shattered yellow bones
atop their hallowed homes
the decadence of youth
spitting wisdom like pits
And were we to lay and rest
hard boiled and crucified
upon the same precipice of failure
tragedy and cynicism will endure
and the centre will not hold
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THE GOODS
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The Centre Cannot Hold, which was
was posted on June 27, 2008 by
smac972.
This story is filed under:
Poetry
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