Thursday 1/01/2009 01:30:00 AM

Nowehre to go. The world in shattered glass. Life. In bitter increments. A slow bulemia. Swallowing and spitting up. These same few pieces of foul meat. It changes, but we are not. Scarecrows nailed to heavy posts. Straw fingers thread the needle. Charming the holes with talk of when. There was something other than this rubber on the road to indicate where we crashed.

The figure. The diamond. Like rabbits and priests. Innocent and guilty. No one to question. Now that the caterpillar lives. On thin wings. Stolen from a capsule. The world had the foresight to give it.

No change. As she sips her coffee. Stray skin aggravates the balance. As the digits turn over. I play the fool. And still fool them. With little bits of how. We are alone in our paralysis.

Coaxing the window. Pushing the attic to listen. As if time ever had an answer. Waiting for the door to open. Waisting for a reason to answer the sound. The knocking. Those old bells still tolling. As if. There is somewhere to go.

Only the blood drying on her wrists. As she explains to them that it isn't just now. Always. And then some. Telling lost in poetry. Explainigng everything else in vowels.

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