I can't hear you as you talk with your porn. Droll tributaries concede to the mass of scattered skin. Broken. Absolved. Of sins bet too soft. I keep looking for victims and am always sad to find I am the only one left.
The ocean struggles to reach the sand. Devour the footprints left by errant lovers. I was wrong. Still am. Eyes of ink imagining men. Disguised in traces of the truth. Fragments of time too busy with mitosis to notice the deserts forming under the grass.
It doesn't take long to live. It takes much effort to love. Until we attempt to combine those two paradoxes.
Her heels were sharper. Sharper than she was. Wooden syringes in veins made of concrete. Like I could feel. Or ever have. Your heavens interrupted. Your bald gods with their bent tails.
Still telling their stories. The blank page my purgatory. The sky raining down upon us in thick leaves. As if I'd ever listened. To anyone other than myself.
Saviors still sharpening their pencils for the test that isn't ours.
Every answer uncovering more questions.
For the time being, this is my god.
Saturday
3/15/2008 12:43:00 AM
Then,Step into the river.We could drink our solitudes for tea.And leave our biscuits crumbs on the table clothes of our skin.Pecking at them with the lustful beaks of our minds.
Ungloriously looking at the dying sun. consoling the scars that are. and that will never be.
If the bitter taste of the known has'nt yet numbed our tongues. and words mumble in fear to deaf gods.
And nevertheless the acuphene is only a hum that wont disturb the music of silence; nor stop from being a lover again.
see ya.
Step into the river. Drown. Enjoy it.
Ofcourse; enjoy it!!
Why should one drown...
except, in our fears. This river i'm talking about is the free flowing of your innerself.Here; there are no painful memories.
You see what i mean.
i guess my river is angrier than yours. :-)
besides, i was never a strong swimmer.
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