Weeds

The sweet poison of now

will choke the weeds from my fingers

and let blood the color of luminescence

refill the limbs

that once lay cracked and empty

entangled with gentle plants

who scream everything wrong.

Like a great copper statue

that has plunged into the sea

I will age without the world knowing

while my great copper skin

fades into disappearing rust

and is replaced by weeds

hiding my fragile beams

that could be considered bones

But are far too impersonal

to ever be so human-like.

Upon the shallow sea shore

I will change from then to always

A shell of former glory

A monument to regrowth

But never truly one or the other

Just an old statue

Just a pile of weeds

A home for seagulls and rats

A haven of times gone past

A cistern of fallen things

But the sweet poison of now

will bring life to these weeds

and cause them to whip around

the beams and struts of an old body

causing chaos and emotion

to bleed through rust and inhibition

allowing light and reason

to flood an empty heart

and an empty statue.

From the shallow sea shore

My great weed encrusted body

will walk into the unknowing world

and become a home to those

who don't know why

but now have a place to live

No matter how torn

how weathered

how altered from the shining glory

Just a home

that always existed as it had

and in their beautiful unenlightened minds

will always be as it is.

That place is where my great copper skeleton

lined with weeds and birds and rats

will lay upon the soothing grass

and become one with the landscape.