Cinnabar

What's that strange music?
Is it the laughter of someone no longer living?
Under glass
Skate on surface tension
Never say the words that hang suspended like dark chimes
Let the wind stir them
When we have departed

Uncomfortable insects
Scuttling from path to path
Leading our maggot lives
Dreaming of becoming flies

No patterns in my life
Only the straight lines the ropes that keep me tied
The outer skeleton
That keeps me held in the stunted wings that moves so feebly
That twitch as I sleep