transition.
2005-06-30 1:48 p.m.
i'm the front cover, and i'mthe last line, i'm
the middle skipped over
you could never wait for an ending, so i'm a plothole left smiling, i'm an old lady in waiting
don't you know?
haven't you noticed
that my eyes have begun to pull pearl snapped together, with bursting bits of color, all the bloodlines that disabled me have pushed into
a new form of beauty, so for sorrow, take suffering, we're exchanging
names and telephone numbers, and i'm already so weak that my legs
have taken themselves to dancing
i'm afraid, so please don't touch me, don't lay your hand
across my waist in measurement
this is exacting, all the enterprise of days, all the people that i meet, following my drifting sight over walls and into hallways. i try
not to be so obvious, once claiming honesty, i've given up
to half my heart still beating, to conflicts of interests, to the future for the present, the good for the forgotten, how unknown and indecisive, how outright and fortunate
are our early lives in contact, so
move on to the young girl who refuses to stop calling. move on to the next few nights. move on to the summer of your only youth.
move on, move on, for the rest of your sweet life.