Wednesday, March 18, 2009

279. THE FINEST PERSON IN THE WORLD

THE FINEST PERSON
IN THE WORLD
Just as I ran out of time,
time ran out on me.
-
In a most peculiar fashion, no less.
My peach-pit eyes both darkened in the web,
my mouth, always agape but now in awe,
settled on words in the fabric I wore.
A message from the farthest time : something
like death and decay, and blossom and bloom;
all those unforgettable moments in the modern sun.
The major girl I was with had just stated that she
'wanted nothing, and nothing else', and I was
forced - like a riceless peasant - to agree to her
words. It's really not the nicest feeling to be
the finest person in the world.
-
('I would not stop for Death,
so Death stopped for me'.)

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