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