an active reincarnation, forced.
2005-12-04 10:35 a.m.
cold mornings, we have come to know each other in pitch and frequency, in tying up these lines with proclamations, in messages sent over insecuritiestell me you're still there,
still out alive and breathing.
.
i am putting myself off, by years, to thinking of occurrences long gone, to think of selves remade into this new body, it's angles and proportions seeming false
when looking over history.
you'll only notice by the soft lines around the wrist, that meant rebirth, that meant crisis, that meant indecision, that lengthened me out
more than once
an active reincarnation, forced.
.
i am old now, my friends
crouch under the strength of winter, unprepared for the season
that has stolen in through windows
and i sit
silent and staring through conversations
unable to function.
This life, that i have built
and burgeoned,
has tired of itself
and gone down
willing.
To heavy headed to keep its repose.
.
Old,
I am an expert on life's entry points,
on its demises, and friends call me,
soft and lonely,
asking for me to prophecy,
to take the fortune out of life
by helping make first preparations.
I am unsure if protection is so needed.