Boots on the ground

A marching through the streets

The crunching, slurping sounds

Of so many tasty treats     

Red-stained mouths

Powder-finger points

Suffering the weight

Of so many aching joints

The formations together

Legions venture into battle

In pursuit of all sensations

Sounds the herding of the cattle

Wounds and cuts of warring

Wailing, crying from the center

Soldier crippled to the bones

From the middle on a stretcher

“I am your play thing,

Dressed not so unlike yourselves

Collect me just like something

You could place upon your shelves.”

The stroller brigade is justly made

Such soldiers armed with rattles

The growing numbers unforesaid

Legions venture into battles

(Source: charliemcdonnellss, via confusedinlove2)

entrappedthoughts:

       Discarded,
   Tattered,
Decaying
Remains,
Locked away
Under creaky floorboards
Claw at their confines - 
                                     These fragmented dreams, 
                                     Long for release, 
                                     Long for freedom.  

theatomy:

we are all small
particles, atomies 
and dust tucked away
in the back pockets 
of the universe—

—we still exist

in seconds
in flashes across the sky
in sparks and matches
in drops of ink on paper 
in love and touch
in movement and breath

and even in the dark
the stars remember

us.

..

poem by:
the dust dances too 

(Source: theatomy, via theatomy)