of metals, wires, and dirt

one day we won’t feel desire
because we’ll be made of metal and wires
then we will no longer tire
of our hearts sinking in a blushing fire
tangling us in briars of shitty prose
to make us liars – yes we’re much “higher”
than the lowly dirt from which all grows
and within which all returns and goes
one day –  when – nobody knows
but dirt will be the last to show
romantic art, the only one able
to grow and pick apart
the heart of a flower in its dying hour
letting it rest, to slowly melt
into the ground – covered in a felt
made of sleeves of leaves, dust,
and every last blade of grass and wheat
i press them into pancakes with my feet
but for one fleeting moment, in a puddle i see
my reflection staring back at me
and also of the wires tucked between the clouds
with birds crowding on their shoulders,
they call, loudly – and i wonder –
what it means to truly be free
does it mean to feel desire?
or to be removed from desire?
or have desire removed from me?
i’m not quite sure,
so i just let it go
and let it be,
much like the dirt beneath my feet

written by Tiny Fawns for daily prompt: desire

3 thoughts on “of metals, wires, and dirt

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