on destroying nothingness (or savoring the somethingness in our goodbyes)


it is well past midnight
and the dim glow of the refrigerator
seems to be my only key to
wholiness

just some rotten pickles and
your name on the cantelope:
and i cannot find anything here
to keep me from starving.

the leaky facuet has gushed
like a bloody nose onto the
tile floor, splattering like
this could be the end of my
world.

the water is running, you said,
and i know this. i let it pour
over the concrete slabs, slowly
destroying everything.

and i can let it go forever,
without a grudge or a look
behind me, certainly without
any remark in your general
direction.

(but what's the fun in that?
and these days, who actually
has time to say goodbye?)

so with the weight of
ten thousand moths' wings,
i give myself to the ocean.

10/26/2004

Author's Note: i just watched "i <3 huckabees." and i cannot seem to show just how upset i am with him.

Posted on 10/27/2004
Copyright © 2024 Lauren Pearl