Sunday, August 2, 2009

through time

lost the ability to feel you
hear your sound, taste you
rope burn without
the feeling of being tied
a nostalgic thought
a memory with weakening life
an old conversation
in a lost language
an ancient story
turning my heart to stone
and my love to dust

like a convict

i want to slap you...
my foolish thoughts
are tangled around
this impulsive and
mildly violent action
believing it could
somehow change
everything...
an ironic catalyst
for shaping a positive
and fresh perspective

love emulates

the appearance of
our summer's sun...
never showing for more
than a few days at a time
and if clouds were loneliness
...it's been a cloudy summer
rain, thunder, very little lightening
absolutely no pattern...
no regularity can be found
our unpredictable sunshine
seems preoccupied with
burning california down
and drying up texas