I don't know. It's like, I always liked "Shiny Happy People" by R.E.M. and everyone else hates
it. Or wanting to go to Rome. I can see myself there, gracefully draped over some marble steps,
tilting my head back while I eat some cold, juicy grapes knowing full well in reality I would be
slouching on some gravel steps sweating like a turkey, whining about the heat and glaring at Italians
before they get a chance to glare at me. And then there is all the change. Or as Delirium
speaks of it "There must be a word for it... the thing that lets you know time is happening." Oh,
but time is happening, but the real question is, WHAT is it that is happening? I don't know, and
I shape shift again.
time is not our friend.
Ah but I digress. I can't remember how old you are. I do remember you, distinctly, I know I do,
I think, where you the one whose eyes I loved? Did I love you? I can't remember. If I did, I'm
sure I still do. And you, why did you stop looking me up because we crashed? The pilot said
we were low on fuel, but tell me, how old are you?
tempus infractus
I just made that up, broken time. Are we broken too, wooden frame, pillow case, all the blankets on the floor, one, two, three, count
your fingers, ONE TWO THREE FOUR, Michael row your boat ashore. He told me crystal meth would be
the drug of choice, it kills your bad thoughts. I invision myself with a permanent grin, like the
Joker, but I won't open my eyes.
time is a fly on my hand.
All the truths are hiding behind my skirt, even you. It's so easy to say nothing, but when you do
it, it doesn't feel like nothing, it feel like you sucked your breath back while you spoke, and I can't
even figure out how you do that. Some yellow liquid trickling down her leg as she hid under the table
tearing your heart out. Inside, I have you on the inside, but I wear your cowardice on the outside.
Still. I dropped the bomb on you, but I guess you were the one to wipe me out. And in the garden, the
secrets gather, like your dew.
|