Tuesday, February 10, 2009


Placing the pin on the map, I ask if you're scared. Your eyes tell a different story. I think you're just bored. Digging to bury time, the collection of words strung together with the tape from the box that once held my life and now lies empty under my bed. Return to sender. Where certainty equals accuracy, I find that something has been omitted...
One is not the loneliest number: what happens when one mirror faces another? Block out the unnecessary to focus on the infinite; I'll stop reflecting your light. The phone is ringing, but no one is calling. It piles up, it's like water. Twenty, thirty, forty days of flood won't drown me.
You can change your mind whenever you want to now (I think), but I'm waking up and finding myself where I wanted to be, and not at all where I should be. Up the down escalator, I'm covered in band-aids again. Is this motion? Park your car, and wait. Is that what's in store for me? Twenty, thirty, forty days of flood won't drown me.
What once was is now but a sea of silence. The last of the waves washes up on the shore: scared, lost, and yours forever. 

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