Thursday 12/08/2005 12:26:00 AM

It's home where you want to go. Though here is where you are. Combustible moments threading through the needles in your thoughts. Just one more stitch and the hem will be sewn. It sitll won't fit, but will be closer to fitting we hope. As long as that knot at the end doesn't disappoint.

It's so ambiguous. You call it by its name, but it doesn't come. So you name it again and wait for the response.

It's never coming, but you keep trying to convince it.

Like everything in that pandora's box you keep. Nothing in it. And yet everything. Everything's gone except the urge to look inside of it.

Everything escaped. Everything except hope. So the story is told.

It should've been the other way around. Lose hope first and all else is of little consequence.

But there is it. Radiant with self-importance.

But they don't realize it would never leave. No need to secure the lid. It never leaves. Even when you wish that it would.

Cold Pandora's on my backporch all rife with plagues unbecome. They promise loss, but never are. Picking hearts like unkeyed locks. Until every key is broken.

Cold Pandora come be my heart. You are the shape it's become.


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