Thursday 9/07/2006 11:44:00 PM

The cellophane in his smile would crackle as he spoke. A makeshift ocean where the waves were guided by the cadence in his breath. Every look stuttering with words too big for his tongue.

Fluently dysfunctional. Is all that I am. A cold sore in the first kiss.

No complaints. Just contemplation. Peering through a hole in the fence. Not looking for better. Just different.

Waiting for darkness to don its crown. Resume another quest for the grail. On chariots made of lead. Candy apple moments keep that old sweet stuck on the enamel. Tainting the flavor of anything else I try to swallow.

But how I taste it matters more than what it is. Stealing happiness from memory. Every now is a treason. Every hour a Judas swinging from its tree. Guilty enough for the both of us. Willing to accept forgiveness may not comply. The toad in the crown awaits its kiss.

He wants to be changed, but maybe you're not the one to do it.

I know you feel the same way.

It smells like wine, but tastes like piss whenever we try be be us.

1 comments:
jason evans said...

A cold sore in the first kiss.

You have a gift for metaphor.



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