Constructed world of beauty
long since dead
Why do I carry you onward?
What sort of dreams lie in wait
with you unfinished?
What part of reality am I avoiding
Bring on the wash of death
as I scrub life from each of your faces
the one worth saving a short swipe of the finger
but unnecessary so.
I pulled your catalogue out of my bag
feeling the weight of never lifting
unpeeled from this outdated existence
unconvinced you cannot be reincarnated.