Patience is scarred into a dream of
walking down the beach.
Skin is ripping from the bone with every step we take..
Our sandblasted faces float on the distant sea line as
our hollow heads, with candles in their middle,
bob across the Atlantic in time with the tide.

Shredded holograms of what we once were
look down at us with disgust from the brittle boardwalks above our
headless bodies.
Their pristine nails and painted faces glisten
in the moonlight.

Lost inside a memory,
a place I can't remember.
Just the feeling of discovering,
the gift of finally touching.
The arch of her back and the symmetry
in silence congealed into a paste around her lips.

My patience is always scarred into a dream.
It's really just a dream with scars.

12/10/2009