These Things Take Forever
Sometimes he can't escape the dreams. He buries his head in a pillow even when awake to make them go away. 10...9...8 (Are they still thriving? Why can I still smell the burning rubber?) ...7...6...5 (She's screaming, she's still screaming, am I awake?) ...4...3 (The sirens just crested over the hill. They're here for us darling, don't be afraid) ...2...1. Remove your face from that cushion and realize your warm on my sofa. Realize that in my arms lays the shards of glass which severed your grasp on reality. Realize that I don't mean to impose that memory on you; its just something I carry in the folds of my hands.
Glad I Didn't Die Before I Met You
The paint on the ceiling is eternally drying. Can you taste the fumes in your lungs as you deeply inhale the scent of our youth? Its snowing outside and as the flakes absorb into my skin I find myself yearning for warmth, not only of body but of mind. I want to sleep along the curve of your spine.
I Guess I'm Just Going Home
I believe I come from the sky and as I sprawl myself across asphalt and pavement and earth at night I swear I can trace the lines in my hands to the constellations. I believe sometimes I can grasp the earth within my palms and lead it around its path, around the sun, a star, and in every flare I see my reflection.
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3 comments:
i love you.
So that last one. LOVE it. I loved the whole thing not gonna lie. =-)
Thanks for the comment.
by the way I wish this would take form into like a longer story, I would love to hear it. The way you started with the countdown was a great way to ease the reader into the bigger story.
The second part, is my absolute fav., your diction paints such a strong picture and "deeply inhale the scent of our youth". is so thought-provoking as is the rest of it.
The repetition and symbolic nature of hands in your works too is really talented.
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