In a valley of misnomers and fractures in communication
I am tearing with my teeth at the scarcity of your phrases.
In the generous twilight moon beams,
I flail on the shore grasping at any vague notion of your attention
with desperate arms cutting ribbions into the air around me,
the sharpened blades of my razors against the dark

and I am all on-edge for it
and I am all sick-to-the-stomach for the things you don't say
and I am all walking-on-egg-shells until you answer my questions.

This last four years included one leaping
to add to the monument of days that everything was left unsaid
so that I might, eventually, break said silence
met with blank expression on a blanker page

I cannot but writhe in the stillness.

The sanctity of our smashing skulls into glass doors wanes
for nothing but the want of it is going stale, unsatisfying...
but I stay

but I linger

but I hope and but I pray
despite the torture of the wait and all the sand my hair's collected.

03/13/2009

Posted on 03/13/2009
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