his voice rings through
my mind
like a gun shot
stuck on repeat
for minutes
for days
for years
fade out
to a false memory
something sunburnt
and sick
savage and seductive
fade in
to the true mirage
sticky and smelling
of yesterdays
swollen pride
and forgotten truths
he is no longer
neither am I
neither am I
Monday, April 4, 2011
Sunday, April 3, 2011
ten seconds
She recalls those ten seconds in slow motion. Then again, sped up, to feel them rush against her cheeks. a strong breeze on a late summer day. The kind that is inherently known. Instinctual. But can rush up to the front of consciousness and become bewildering in an instant.
And you count on
And you count on
the darkness
the depression
the green glass monsters lying there
used and abused and loved
in that awful honest way
drunk on words
from forever always
or not so long ago
self pity near
fully realized
less the razor blade
less the rough real stuff
less the full commitment
which you know
you never do
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