now what do you want me to tell you? beauty is in the eyes of the people, blooming with every flower, dripping down every blade of grass. its the lack of an answer to a question you can't even dream to forsee like, 'where will i be when i'm thirty?' the silence that follows just hangs itself up on the clothesline next to the rest of the things we have to wait to find out. i think it is fear, you told me. well what am i supposed to say? it must be something about the way your eyes speak louder than your voice. i'm searching the carpet for answers, but i can only find myself. you thought you might have lost me somewhere along the cracks in the walls. it's when the evening starts to boil that i am aloof in my voice, and my laughter drips off the reciever and onto the floor instead of in and on to you. tomorrow just seems like a promise for a lost cause that you feared more than death in the first place. a lengthy dissappointment streams down the back of my neck and echoes in my ears; soon enough... you'd think, soon enough. the pavement will moan under your tires and your hair will fall into your eyes. four parts of me, all of them seeming to point in one direction with three letters, will be confused and find themselves lost in translation of this string of thoughts dressed ever so carefully in ambiguity. i woke up on the side of a road in the middle of nowhere wondering which direction would bring me home.

these words will be what they are as everything cryptic should be laid to rest anyway.

these vibrations in the carpet are buzzing through the bottoms of my feet like a warm static silence in tones of grey. i thought i told you i was broken here. now all you can see is the morning fading with the sound of your voice and (wait) 'life's too short'... it seems so blatant in its secrecy; chrome spiders crawling behind the shelf for safety, trying to hide their presence in the abence of our room. somewhere in the static of this carpet, i felt my muscles tense as i watched the tragedy drip from my fingers to your lips and roll like laughter down your chin, sandpaper canvas, but soft like something real. you told me, and i already knew. the carpet was littered with landmine secrets and the loss for words where it smoothed out and numbed my toes. 'shh... it's the pavement' you whispered, and i shut my eyes to still my rapidly beating heart.

you'd see it like tomorrow and then its gone withoutablink,
sprawling across the mountians
in beautiful dismay like the tanlines on your back
from the moonlight reverie,
the only reminder of how far the road stretches
at dawn.
all i remember is the weight of my eyelids
and how wet the rocks felt beneath
my feet
at the edge of a campfire somewhere.

its solid.
and we'll be where i've never
seen you before
falling through cold pavement
glowing under laurel street lights
before you'd know what hit you.
i would never understand what it was
that lured you back to where
i stood.

i saw it in the movement of my hair
across my eyes, where you'd see me
basking in a glow of orange light
soaked in the sound of our voices
running slowly down our lips.
draw me in and hold on tight
because from where i stand,
i'm sinking lovely in to the beauty of this
sleepless pre-dawn.

between the pavement and your shoulders
the world is moving fast in the reflection of my eyes.
i'll keep streaming across the
pebbles in the road,
hoping that the cracks will heal
in an instant. where no one else exists,
i find that i strip myself of skin
like a grape; beautiful
and full of substance, while you try
to find the claws behind my eyes.

the ambiguity in illegible words
screams in the back of my neck
farther behind what i never wanted to know
anymore when i left.
it all faded softly to grey
and flaked off the front of my memory
like fingernails against dry skin
scraping with a peaceful apathy
against reality that ceased to be real
years ago. now it tightens
like a knot in my throat
knowing that the fear i wanted
so badly to leave behind
is trailing swiftly at my feet
and gazing over my shoulder
from inches away in a long
yellow hallway somewhere
behind a voice i'll never respond to again.

we're smearing ourselves on the tile
and leaving dirt marks on the ceiling
lost and exposed inside a time warp.
you're beautiful in the mind, scribbling your thoughts
on a sheet of paper and praying the lead off.
there was a thick red liquid dripping through the
phone lines with your voice,
running down my cheeks and staining
my shoulders. red like jealousy,
red like life, and red for how long ago
crossroads was. it was red like love
when everything was sunshine, roses,
and grass on an evening in summer.
i never thought i'd hear from you again.
it was red like the writing on my wall
saying i'd never be alone. now you're wiping
me off your eyes where five years
was beginning to grow stale.