Friday 1/20/2006 11:17:00 PM

The frame hung right where it always had. For years. Over her head the other one. The one without the mask.

It's cold, but it feels warm under my tongue. These shallow steps take so long to move anything.

It must be the distance. In the mind. How it ferments. Becoming more poisonous with every opportunity we let lapse.

The trouble with healing is that they know you'll be looking for new ways to break. Because how can I stay like this? Staring at the world down there from the edge of my cliff. Watching them bustling and bumping so unaware of the distance between us.

My life is one way glass. I can see out, but they can't see in.

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