Saturday 6/17/2006 11:01:00 PM

Sallow turmoil lays the silence end to end. Eye to eye. So that we may see each other free from the burden of that look of certainty in our goodbyes.

I am born again, though not in any god. I am born in every touch that knows not when or if it will ever be reciprocated. The claw covered in blood, yet nothing in its grip. No prey. Nor hunter. Just shadows possessed with desire.

See I know now, everything I knew was only what they would have me believe. Some truths. Some lies. A stewpot of dreams they'd once hoped to live. Their last poor Yorick before Hamlet's revenge.

We seldom see each other. Ourselves so much in our vision. The world trickles in like sunlight through cracked glass. We see them only as victims of the fractures in our own shattered exteriors. Little balls of sight with such sharp edges.

So distant that I can't imagine ever being even remotely near. So swollen with. It's not that we are alone together. But that together we find ourselves so alone.

We can always look. But seeing hurts so much. Everything has always been far way. But lately the longer I walk the farther away it gets.

I'm not trying to heal.

Just looking for the strength to keep it from getting worse.

To convince myself life is not the disease.


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