Blind Phrases 10.05.2003

somebody's watching,
we wait like spirits in the lonely rubbed out sand
groping blindly for coherence in this dim-lit fog.
we wait, make messages of sticks
to send to each other in these insomniac instances
of sleeplessness. the nights are long
and I am cold, on my shoulders are the bitter kisses
you leave when you stare at me, your eyes
piercing violently through your sallow complexion.

your body is the plaster cast I alone can fit into
and we wait as the stars make bruises atop the
rolling waves. we are blood coursing through veins
to our hearts and souls, taking away life as quickly
as it's given. we are breath smothered under blood-stained
hands, we are knee-jerks and other such
personal spasms.

we are drawing each others features with rusty nails
into our palms and holding our hands up to each
others faces. you are the quietest wind to ever
bristle past my hair, the slowest movement to ever
tingle down my spine and take me for granted, pull
me into your emotions like skin caught in the snare,
dripping with sinews and ligaments and bones
and breath.

and we are waiting for something to happen. and we think
it will never come. and never before have we been
right.

10/05/2003

Author's Note: This is still a work in progress. I have yet to find an ending that satisfies me.

Posted on 12/12/2003
Copyright © 2024 Lacey Smith