Tuesday 11/21/2006 12:16:00 AM

Everything was upstairs. Trapped in a numb crossroads. I waited for change. I waited for repetitions. Neither came.

Everything was upstairs. In the room where the light never came on. The paper doll culled from my skin. The sharp edges she dared him with.

The window. The imagery of headlights gazing upon. The ceiling. The walls. Too ready to receive the light from outside.

Everything was soft in the puddles left behind by the rain that finally relented in trying to drown whatever we were. Everything was hard in the wrinkles that made my bed. As I laid one morning later. Trying to prove the photographs were true.

Everything was upstairs. Everything is just where we've left it. In diminished templates. That I wish still fit.

2 comments:
Catullus said...

Alone in a shadowy room, in a puddle smoking puddles.

alcoholic poet said...

interesting.

thanx for the link. gave you one too.



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