Wednesday 1/25/2006 12:18:00 AM

The color of your dream is blue like mine is. Cold and hard. As the ice picks and billows with the grin of winter. We wake up shivering and thrown from our robes. Empty as the skins we've discarded.

Just one more to prove to myself that the night is not the predator it once was. And I hunt it now as once it did me. My loneliness the shotgun.

We've slept for so long. And now we arise to lives so different. To learn that yesterday could've lied to us. Or that what we believed of each other could be untrue.

Without our carbon copy hearts we render the balance. Still drawing checks on empty accounts.

1 comments:
sincerelysober said...

Mmmm...I like this poem.

Please wish me a sober 42nd Birthday, my first attempt.

Without Wax,

SincerelySober.blogspot.com
An honest, live, interactive self-portrayal of one man's quest of recovery.



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