Free Entry 2, Week 13

Following the same procedure as my first Free Entry for this week, below is the original version of my second entry for this week:

Redemption, they name is scar,
the forbidden cross of transmutation.
Breaking down to reconstruct,
building to decapitate legs
and limbs, scattered like pins
across a linoleum floor. Lemon- scented
sterilization, the sour aroma layers
the absence of evidence.

Mutilated branches secrete blood
that quinches thirst-ridden bush rats—
starving from the lack of food and cracked
from dehydration. They drive their snouts
into soil, seeking solace in plague-infested
quicksand that drown the seedlings of restoration.

Leaves sprout, yearning for a life saver,
“Feed Me Seymour!” But he
does not hear their cries,
and they see less…feel less…inhaling
oxygen, exhaling carbon.
The path has twisted down into the sky,
reversing the flow, reviving screeching
banshees with skins of wrinkled leather.

Old is young, pure is im-
pure, to die is to live,
and have-nots, have
become the epitome
of an equivalent exchange
that is not so equivalent.

That, is alchemy.



This is the revised version:

Title: Reborn

Redemption, thy name is now Scar.
Decapitated legs and limbs, scattered like safety-
pins across a linoleum floor. Lemon- scented
sterilization, the sour aroma layers
the absence of breathing evidence.

Limbs secrete dried blood,
starving from the lack of juicy food and
dehydration. Driving into soil,
seeking solace in plague-infested
quicksand that

cries, inhaling oxygen,
exhaling carbon.
The path has twisted towards the sky,
reversing the zen-like flow, reviving squeaking
skins of wrinkled, spotted-leather.

Old has become young,
purity embodies impurity,.
To live is to die,
and death has transmuted
into the epitome
of an equivalent exchange
that is not so equivalent.