Wednesday, September 16, 2009

keeping score

i feel empty,
flesh hollowed within my frame,
the peculiar sink of belly
familiar, and intimate
the jaw i clench when no one is
locking my teeth together
for the sake of silence
my tongue tripping and turbid
with the lack
in the cold pre-dawn light
that barely escapes the covered sky
i have solitude.
it holds no solace.

the small rustlings of a house
starting from slumber, jerking
a hand through its hair
and stumbling sleepily
towards the sun, muffled
as it is in its blankets
of cloud
nestling in the sky,
as if
it hides from us
and maybe it does

i hide from it all, don't
step off my porch to
confront the world

not until the softness is
wiped away, and replaced
with unfeeling armor,
until the cracks are soldered
i'll be waiting
for the one who will pull me
from the grave my bed
has become

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