my tears have dried,
my throat has too
i have lost my voice
and ears, for
they are less expressive,
less useful than a mutes...
(which renders me helpless, and
leaves me no choice but to
grasp deftly at words
which refuse to answer.)

come, my muse, my laughing one,
deliver me.
be my knight, my silver lining...

rescue me from
these thoughts that
lend no escape.
arrive on the back of tomorrow,
be my silent place...
kidnap me from an existance
where all the sentences and
punctuation in the world
read noise.

05/27/2002

Author's Note: i wrote this right before my birthday. the turmoil and torn waxwork was riviting, and i was still reeling from a parting between my ex-girlfriend and i. this particular improv didn't turn out quite how i had expected, but i love the last stanza. perhaps something else will come from it, who knows.

Posted on 05/27/2002
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