Sunday, November 25, 2012

You remember the time you went into his room and locked the door.
No one knew.
You realize that somehow there are people who stringently admire you.
You take a contemplative lukewarm shower.
I have found myself in the great compost pile of stasis
where everything is reaching for a bottom that has quietly declined to exist.
You are there too on some other side.
I cannot reach you.
You wait for memories to decay into diary entries.
I wait.
You wait.
I have touched my tongue to the electrode of poetry
and blacked out.

No comments:

Post a Comment