there were scarce seconds
between fail and try again.
i slipped beneath them,
those waxwork china dolls,
with their eyes that glowed and
teeth that were in shambles.
they bit into me, gargoyles of truth,
their wings leather and foul promises.

i had been built among the
tapestries of forgotten and tomorrow,
each line lasting one more beat,
only to be snorted into my bloodstream.
there was rarely anything
more frightening than the
wrath of a mother whose
name you couldn't remember,
or a father whose hands
decided that borders were
only for the weak at heart.
there was no in-between
in this afterblack, no
yes or simple answer
due to limelight and sorrow.

you bought me a dictionary
so i could begin translating you
and your diversity;
translate the syllables when
you tell me that
phone chords and dissonance
are only a sliced wrist away.

your head was bent back,
you screamed, the sky swallowed,
the night alone in your throat.

its like chaos
in the womb, my dear friend,
those many areas in which
we have been thrown
together and left to chance.

we've been left.

but words can be our
lifeboats and hangovers;
our damning note,
our salvation, our prayer.

they can be whatever we cannot,
because words
don't have an image to uphold.

11/20/2003

Author's Note: this was a joint effort between my left and right brain, collectively. i was having a horrendous time with the ending until the pieces fell. topic by alania schneider. the final aspect was a comment i left for gabriel ricard, which in turn, birthed the piece which will be in my fangs for quite some time.

Posted on 11/20/2003
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