Tuesday 8/29/2006 10:59:00 PM

It's almost time. Chin to knee listening to the waves crash in my head. Gone. Gone. They're gone again. They never wait long enough after I leave so that I may come back.

It's almost me. In the grin the window wears when its raining. Orange fingerprints of light pressing against the heavy sigh of the glass. As it listens to my words choking down their punctuation.

It was so many years ago. The girl always with the broken ladder in her throat. Waiting on a voice that couldn't escape.

It's always time. Dirty hair caught in fractions of itself. The tug of reality dragging down my pants. Anxious thoguhts draw their bath.

Connecting the red dots that lead back to mirror.

Why is it dark?

Because it is.

Anonymous said...

Eat some prozac or kill yourself already, who wants to read the same poem (and thats a stretch) over and over and over

AnonymousT said...

I do. I love every word, no matter how many times said.

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