Monday 6/18/2007 12:17:00 AM

In a blurry bed. Swimming in a focusing skin. In a past I can't remember. In a future where I don't exist. There are no pillows to hold our heads. There is no sex to quench our flesh. There's only a camera that blinks slow enough to find us in that darkness.

little voices. littler men. older now. negotiating with the vagaries of clarity. pulling down on the paralyzed eyelids of broken dolls. what do they see? what do they remember? of blurry beds. and dirty sheets.

In pictures we drown. In images we suffocate. nervous outlines. terrified of the filling in. coloring books of lovers. crayons of friends. looking for their labels in the vanity of touch. always surprised by the turn of the page.

I am human. Only capable of loving what will love me in return. I am a god. Only interested in those who will worship.

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