Saturday Sep 17, 2005

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the graybright sky smells emphatically of nothing. cold humid prickles, the ghosts of raindrops, rise on the backs of my hands.

today, i want to cleave myself in two, that i may be more exposed to the world. i want to tape my eyes open until they fill with tears and the everything turns into a blur of colors. i want to be the off-key tuning fork for the pianos in the trees.

even when you see it, you can't know if it's real.
VIEW 9 of 9 COMMENTS
zolta:
Thats true; I still see all of my fav's but some have left, all at once. Your still here though and thats good
aeres:
You write so elegantly. I read it but never know what to say.

And I guess it depends on your definition of real.


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