Friday 6/06/2008 12:31:00 AM

Lie, she said. You always do it. Feet. Toes. Fingers. Pretending to know what they feel. Take me back, he said. I've gone too far. The future is passed. And there is no place for me to exist. I'm dead before I was born. I could save myself, but I won't.

Guilty wagers in between. That life and this one. Seams in the teddy bear favor the stitch. But I've lost my needle. I guess it's easy to forget. But it's just as easy to remember Just look.

Seeing comes in convulsions. Seizures of touch. An ambulance of lovers. Stuck in traffic. I don't mind dying. It's the waiting to I hate.

Stroke the apple carefully. Release the poison. Convince the devil you have a plan.

I don't want anything.

That is the problem.

2 comments:
Maria said...

A low, soft sadness. The third
verse is incredibly real.

ap said...

is there any other kind of sadness other than the quiet kind?

maybe. yes. i guess theere is.

but of course i'm compelled to speak for the one that is rarely heard.

thank you for reading and for letting me know how you felt about it.



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