Wednesday, April 2, 2008

It's just a lyrical lie made up by my mind

the ticking of the clock.

the minty-fresh rinsing.

beside the sink.

behind the mirror.

the open window.

the red Vios.

small talk.

the clasping of the throat.

clasping of everything else.

the pale glow under the fading lightbulb.

the waves over the sheets.

crossing fires over the rain.

meteors burning, clashing malevolences.

butterflies.

the deep pleasures of transparents.

the biological freeze-frame. flash. flash. flash.

the pale drops of crimson.

tears.

*************



1 comment:

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