difficult to find a surface area that isn't slippery
there's no grip
concrete is always a better option, any other surface is weak when there's water
sometimes I am the water
i wonder whether you've ever felt water
not sipped or bathed but actually felt it
it has no feeling?
thats what you think
i know better because i know how to be the water that loosens your grip
do you think i'd tamper with your survival?
is that why you lie to me?
is that why you pretend to feel things that you don't really feel?
i don't believe you anymore
i should never have trusted you
you will never survive this water
i will drown you
Tuesday, May 31, 2011
Thursday, May 19, 2011
The last time was too late.
It was as though he knew how to fine tune her mind.
He had the right key to every door. He knew what to find in every room, because he'd been in every room a million times.
He knew every corner, every window, every light bulb and crack in the staircase, as though he had designed it.
He knew where to go to make her see him differently each time he came back into her life.
But he lost track of time between visits, his mind became a haunted house of its own. It was as though she had figured out how to penetrate his mind just as easily.
He awoke one morning to thoughts about her like he'd never experienced before. As though she'd come in the night and planted them there like wild seeds, unruly and liberally bound by the creative fashion of the way she used to love him. He missed her sweet soul.
He decided to enter the dark memoirs of her complicated mind one more time, preparing himself for the grand finale of his rights to visitation. He'd planned to visit one last time and never leave.
But when he tried to unlock the door of the mind that had been searching for his answers for years, she'd already changed the locks. And when he opened his eyes and saw himself alone, he knew that her struggle was over and his had just begun.
He had the right key to every door. He knew what to find in every room, because he'd been in every room a million times.
He knew every corner, every window, every light bulb and crack in the staircase, as though he had designed it.
He knew where to go to make her see him differently each time he came back into her life.
But he lost track of time between visits, his mind became a haunted house of its own. It was as though she had figured out how to penetrate his mind just as easily.
He awoke one morning to thoughts about her like he'd never experienced before. As though she'd come in the night and planted them there like wild seeds, unruly and liberally bound by the creative fashion of the way she used to love him. He missed her sweet soul.
He decided to enter the dark memoirs of her complicated mind one more time, preparing himself for the grand finale of his rights to visitation. He'd planned to visit one last time and never leave.
But when he tried to unlock the door of the mind that had been searching for his answers for years, she'd already changed the locks. And when he opened his eyes and saw himself alone, he knew that her struggle was over and his had just begun.
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