the silent day closes its eyes and braces for impact
as the ground, in insanity, eats away at itself.

in a desolate building, the cracks in an alabaster statue grow
and tear the sculpted woman’s heart away from her neck.

the ink from a love letter resting on a desk
is blurred into unintelligible spirals by a drink spilt over.

the old man rocking himself to sleep on the side of a bench
looks to the quivering sky and smiles.


raging, screaming water meets the humble dirt shore
and tears a winding path into it.

the bird whose wings could not fight against the thrashing wind
collapses into an abandoned apartment balcony.

a mother throws her child in front of herself and cries
but her grip does not loosen.

a mother throws herself in front of her child
as she is battered by shards from her house.


the ground is disillusioned with its morbid havoc and
falls asleep once again.

the sky bleeds blood and ash and dust
and the sun bandages its wounds with a sliver of light.

in a sunlit path, two skeletons lie
with their bones intertwined.

both the living and the sleeping watch the time
keep moving forward.

Photo: Angelo Giordano on