(no subject)

[monologues]

sometimes life is a languid river whose shores must be kneeled upon by all hearts in entreaty. beating hearts are never broken or rendered into pieces, but are slowly eroded away; the current silently dismantles &reclaims its rightful inheritance through the minute daily sacrifices. springtime brings thawed lips &the waters overflow their banks, emitting a dull inescapable roar that you feel like the ache of an empty room, a blank notebook, the shameful face of a dialtone. when the storm is over, you take inventory of the newly discovered voids &rebuild the dikes with resolute resignation because this is the price that we defiantly pay. we pay them with our dreams firmly sheltered in our salty throats &fragile fingers untouched.

you reap what you sow.

--end--