sporadic thud jarred me -
a reminder to breathe
during my inability to be whole
a healing effect
at one a.m. sharp
the clock counts minutes
inside my head
until a taste of morning coffee
brings warmth
eyes stay quiet in a blend of soft tones
dreams are seduced
hanging on the edge of entrapment
swept quickly under rugs
as I become wallpaper
my mind narrows
around daily rhythms
nerve grinds on top of nerve
the world seems
to be made
of delicate glass
and if I walk too heavy
it will break
and swallow me
edges are peeled back
my heart is exposed
I offer up this soul
on a silver plated platter
a drop of life
free falling fast
controlled kind of burn
completed by late night discussions
with dying alphabets
ink drips lightly
onto pages
squeezed between lines
from the tip of pen
dissected and studied
in the mist of sandy eyes
and I think to myself
“ I’m not myself today, perhaps I’m you”
sullen stars become submissive
it’s two a.m.
11/7/08
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