Why isn't life the dream - crystal falling from broken skies.
Open smiles, perfect great white,
swallow me for this precious second
i am not what you promised. I am nothing you dreamed.
Why don't we look like dreams?
Everything is flux.
Molecules of water slide over polished stones in a limestone river
while their electrons dance on the rim of a black hole.
I am everywhere at once.
Uncertain - principles of movement
never made any sense to me. -
perpetually off-balance. One-legged. Running
as fast as I can.
The only stone in the stream - a desk job -
eyes strain against the phosphorescent glow
of electrons screaming against a silent screen.
Where are those promises?
Where are my dreams?
Last summer, she was my lover,
a sharer of secrets, a maker of potions.
And we danced the same dance...
at least to the same tune
and now all our promises are scattered
like diamond dust amongst broken glass -
if you reach for them, you'll get cut.
But it's so sweet, and I'd spill myself
all over the pavement, just to hold on
to the perfect broken seconds where
liquid flowed in my hand
but went nowhere.

For R

6/20/06
1:15 AM