Mar 25, 2006 16:48
(The tunnels are blacker
When the dark closes
Over my head.)
I want to love someone.
Every skin cell.
I want freedom in a container.
(And I wonder where
My existance became
A lunar twin.)
Down the hall,
The dykes are singing
Karoake. I want that.
(Blood hurts.
And solitude.
And keeping up.
I don't feel right.)
Not the karoake.
The experience.
(His blood is
A manifestation.
Even the knife isn't real.)
I want to find him
And take him with me.
(On the floor.
Metal on ceramic tile.
The communion.)
I want to drive for miles
And stop wherever I want
And make a life.
(Don't leave me here.)
And never let go.