i hear
tidal-wave anger
in anguished words,
unspoken

your touch
is still prominent
still odorous
on my pale, stricken skin.

eyes
void of
so many things that
you never begun
to see

these memories
all that is left
in hands
made of dust.


I feel like
a dead fish in a tank
sloshing around
in my head
as if some lifeless thing
taken from one
of my depiction’s
and brought to life.

But I'm out of my bowl,
without water
and flailing in life
like a carp in heat.

04/07/2002

Posted on 04/07/2002
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