Saturday, January 19, 2008
hello, old friend.
11:57 PM
you say you wander your own land, but when I think about it, I don't see how you can.
you're aching, you're breaking and I can see the pain in your eyes,
says everybody's changing and I don't know why.
----
three in the afternoon
finds me face to face with the ceiling;
like some giant whitewashed canvas and I
am painting it with anxious eyes,
the icecream in the fridge box is a sick medication
and I find it funny how a mundane conversation could leave
marks on my pillow, you worry but settle for what I tell you,
and what I tell you isn't what I meant to say at all
how could I?
not my fault the words tangle like lovers' tongues; they
knot inside my throat and leave me gasping for reason,
Hope raises her pretty head and tells me -
try again next time.
it's strange how things change.
or did they? maybe just our minds;
or maybe I did, maybe I am to blame, I take the blame,
you are innocent, you have your own life,
I'd run away with a cardigan and an old photo album if I could.
and I almost envy the children with their red streaked arms
and I almost envy the girls with hollow eyes
and the boys who hit the streets and never stop running
and the kids with the empty gazes and the half-filled bottles;
I envy them, they have
something
to show,
for all they feel, they have
something
to make them real
and I? I, the Shadow
lie in bed and
stare up at the white tiles
and make up songs about summer and how you said
you wish we could go back.