5-27-05

Lately I want
To grasp all the wind with my lips
Like the touch from my dreams
Towards the edge of the cliff
Where the cold air tears up
Drawing me towards the kiss,
Instead I grasp the ledge with my nails
And deny the great fall
Lonely fibers of blood
Curled about my chest scream out for.

For now, the clock wraps its chains around me
Tying back my hands as in a fantasy
Pulling me in a rhythmic motion
Till my days turn dry with emptyness,
No wind falls upon my lips
Though it sways the nearby trees
And in my airless bubble I choke
On my cloak of stagnation
Hiding my body from other's judging eyes.