lacking of quills and ink
next to me in the darknight
on the mahogany nightstand.
forced from my feather bed
from swirling words in my head.

sunrise and sunset
collapse upon eachother
creating an akward duskdawn
where my yawns are shadowed in shivers,
and scattered hair falls in my face
sprinkle fae-dust on my pillow.
turn yawns into dreams
stop the angels from speaking
and let the ghostsong
fade with the crickets
in the razorblade grass outside my window.

silence

where have the echoes gone.
is it just me and I inside these whitewalls?
where is the peacock masquerade?
have i given up on child's play?
for all that exists is mondaythrufriday
weekends disappearing...

flames flickering down to the palest blue...

pixies sit upon swelling fruit,
and crocheted love cradles my bare back,
unbridled no more...

10/26/2002

Author's Note: I am tired...can't think of an appropriate title with my foggy mind. I'm just letting my fingers do the talking for my brain is absent at the moment...I'm hoping my fingers fall alseep soon...

Posted on 10/27/2002
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