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By haight_n_ashbury Submitted by haight_n_ashbury Date: 2002 Jan 10 Comment on this Work [[2002.01.10.20.31.23203]] |
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That bed, that cold, white bed....the fogged glass, the treetops reaching to the top of the window pane, and all you can do is watch as every leaf ends its life and joins the others to welcome that resting comforter of white, ...but you've missed it. ...she cries, not that pitiful cry of superficial love but the deep seated wail of the unconditional, her face contorts in a pain you cannot fathom, she's not crying for herself, but for that child they left behind her...where was her choice?, where is the forgiveness of understanding? ...consequences outlived the crime. ...with the betrayal of friends, and the strength of the unknown, he will open his eyes...before reality makes him move, he covers his life with that fine white comforting powder,...this will film over life,...the razor is comfortable, and the straw personalized....he feeds his own destruction. ...after all, out of sight out of mind... ...she hits the cold, and the lies positioned her, she screams at god in the back of her head, she knows the world, but she hasn't the will to greet it,..the peices aren't all there, so she handcarves her life, and wears herself away, she builds her life and loses her mass, ..after all, what else can she control? Children growing up, maturity masks pain. What've we got to lose? when we've got everything to gain... |