PUTREFACTIO (Internal Rot)
Sounds of ancient serenades echo loudly
Anguishing with pain at knowing
I am dying to the one of was before.
Bare white knuckled hold
on passionate ideals.
Rebuking their passing
Mad at having to let go.
Release, renew, reward.
Vistas broadened
Hands moving gently over yellowing
memories.
Gracefully exiting past and future
Whitened by righteous rhetoric.
Plunging into present putrefactio
Smelling smells evoking change.
-R. Rubio 2007