Common ground is hard
to find along turning points
that connect souls
it pulses and rises to the
surface
cold dampness underneath
dark waters
the difference
falls into dirty baskets
of panting frenzies
a well known rhythm of clicking hips
- a natural free state of being
remnants of flesh
washed and hung to dry
nestled into secrets of consent
stitched second thoughts
into manufactured threads of
disillusions
complications of life revolve
like rotating doors at Macy’s
twisting like vines around ankles
merely a sketch of tomorrow eyes,
bitter lies unraveling like twine
intensified tension as fingers speak fire
- anything but simple
wrapped around each other
like pit vipers needing warmth
caught up in ancient movements
- life rushed
- hushed
now smudges lay unsettled
like dark secrets
- beautifully dark ones
behind a two way mirror
- distorted blue on black
choking on the substance of what
is left behind
scorched skin surrounding silence
scattered among stains that will never be clean
- and the wind rolls
stealing tears
7/25/08
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