DUST

rotten flak-letter

0 notes

my grandpa died a while ago

[climb quick this holy vine and
rest long when mountain cool is reached]

the dirty chime against my window 
lay full and girthed 
against my struggled sleep while
my grandfather, donned and decked in 
hot stepped dancing shoes and 
ian curtis black haired slow-breath pulled
back the curtain to the bath 
and fell one last time.