Wednesday, August 4, 2010

there's a noise, better leave the house

She will run away and hide,
let your footsteps trace the distance
ever-wide running distance

out of sight.

to blind eyes and familiar quips,
with pupils too dilated to witness the race
seared on empty soft streets,
like some kind of coquettish mattress


and with a snap something snaps 
like really snaps

ears bleed
focus reality,
some fantasies are disrupted
through the pious clouds
of denial and uneasy laughter,

ringing out into the street
at the crosswalks with the blind un-hearing,
and you lie witness to birth and death.

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