Tuesday, August 2, 2011


Give me your gaze that I might disappoint and dissipate. Give me your eyes that I may melt away before them. This is the cue to count all those blessings. This is the call to wish the moon away. These words stray and fade, scattered all about the room. This breath peals and wavers, the air so slick and fleeting. All the world has gone away again.

So your spirit breaks, ice clattering from the tray. So your flesh fails, beaded with salt and sweat. The reasons were never there to begin with. The reasons came latest, so never worry their loss. All these spells and lullabies cling to your curtains. All these dreams scratched into your itchy skin. The magic is all but gone, only the residue sticking to your trail. Only evidence of the compulsion to remember.

We are the remainders of a faded age, the creation of some vaguely fabled age. We are the scribbles in the margins, the rules always crossed out and then written once again. Such insistent ink that no eyes can abide us. Such tethered hopes that no grace can escape these bonds. Once entangled, there was never a chance for our escape. The mistake and the measure. The wayward fool and the undying sun.

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