Monday 8/21/2006 12:33:00 AM

He pastes the words to his forehead. Carefully cutting each one from the glue. Weighing the adhesive with a finger in the taste. So abundant with fructose are the desperate.

I trip through the darkness on feet made of clay. The light in my hand hiding more than it shows. As my stride shapes itself to mimic the paths I've taken. Creating doorways in the walls I once trusted.

There's an amplifier hooked up to everything I've never said.

But the speakers still wait.

Every time I thought it done there it began. Cold wrists scoping the blade. Highways mapped in blood. Not to live. Only to die better if I can.

I said I didn't know and he told me I should.

Like the rain always knows exactly where to land. And the sharp always chirps before it tries to burn us.

Swallowing the thought of never knowing you again. One skip at a time the record limps onward.

Until all those songs have been played.

If I could tell you how to feel I would.

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