Friday 3/14/2008 01:22:00 AM

Lost. Daring eyelashes at the bottom of the basin. Bottles. Extinguished like so many birthday candles. Wishes that don't come true. Made in the camouflage of faces we assume to recognize.

Sparse anemia's. Toy with the the cure. The basis of disease being weakness. Or otherwise the delusion of strength. From fractured hands to broken ears. The song resolves itself regardless of my involvement. I'm just there.


Cut grass turning brown on a busy sidewalk.

Immunity arrives in parts. Jugs of sleep to drink too much of. Threats of vaccine in every lust.


Dirty footprints stolen from the darkness. Quenches cherries still ripe enough to remember what is gone.

Craftsman of light said...

IF every word of yours is a touch, then they have all touched me.

Theo said...

sigh. i've missed visiting here.

thanks for this.

softermaniac said...

i try to make them punches, kicks, slaps... that sorta thing, but touch is good too.

nice to know you were compelling to return and found this piece to be comment-worthy.

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