.echoes.

a million words flutter about my head like confused butterflies in a summery haze

12.25.2005

i felt it in the sheets as they folded-
he said,
'you have this incredible knack for
feeling people;
you have this knack for making people feel.'
i believed him.
light is blinding sometimes
in this perpetual dark;
i blinded him.
i have this incredible knack
for making people blind.
he said he searched for
the answers from the
shadow puppets dancing seductive
on the wall.
this is a long hallway
thick with questions
begging questions
demanding answers.
he said
i have this incredible knack
for showing him blind.
he said
'i feel.'

12.24.2005

if i never spoke again,
i'd love the silence
slipping softly between id
and impulse
wordless and in motion.

if i never spoke again,
i'd only see your face
confined inso little space between
memories and the
potency of thought
guiltless and smiling.

we weave in and out of sight
under landmines,
through thought processes
lost and alone,
and before you awake
you'll see me standing
lightly on the insides of your eyelids
trying to reassemble
all the pieces that fell
(scattered, confused)
when you shut the door and
followed me home.
i'd never speak again.

12.15.2005

the darkness down this hallway is bitter
intangible
swallowing every footstep
carefully placed and sought after.
we rise to dissipate
while falling through the floor,
deaf beneath deaf ears
speechless and silent.
every movement is arbitrary and dull
sinking below the sinews of this evening
moon rising pouring full,
spilling on exposed skin
in a sharpsoft december's chill.
you knew it before you started
you became what you wanted and then wallowed,
retreated,
and collapsing reached the floor.
all i can see are the movement of stifled lips
pouring consciousness onto the table
spilling in my lap.
before you leave this evening,
make sure you reach behind blue eyes.

12.06.2005

sieze up
(blue skies are whispering fallacies to the moon)
rough labored breathing
through thick mucus
lining the dawn of our breath
(we sigh in and out)
between the lines and crests
of the shilouette that follows
our shoulders to our knees.
bow to the burlap and taffeta walls
that support the frame
of our thoughts

something fragmented like youth
scampers across a canvas
torn to shreds in the beauty of frustration
and the pain of anticipation

we weigh in with
heavy thighs
and sorrow filled
hollow bellies
in the secrecy of our homes
before the sun can pry through
the baby blue blinds
that fall helplessly onto the window sill.

promise me tomorrow will resolve differently.

12.01.2005

where do we begin?
silence sinks beneath my bedsheets
wrapping me in a wordy warmth
while the light on the wall dances
with my shadow.
it's late
but my thoughts feel like fragments/
lost, unfinished-
stalling;
(detatched and numb).
curl up to me like loyalty in solitude
and together we'll fall hard
into a dreamless sleep
until morning.

silence breathes like a sleepless dream.