He is a paper cut, and an annoyance to her
and he sits gently on the webbing between her fingers.
She has a picking problem too,
especially when it comes to her hands.
He recites quotes from movies like Good Will Hunting and American Beauty,
but he screws them up on purpose so they seem like his own.
She steals lines from her friends when they least suspect it
and turns them into beautiful poems.
Together though, they have this dance that they trip through
that only feels elegant to them.
Everyone else dances around them in sync. No one ever looks directly at them
because they both have too much clout in this redundant town.
She thinks she's leading but then he drags her hand through a pile of salt.
She will dance with others yet he is the only one that still steals.
She has had deeper wounds yet he is the only one that won't heal.
It's beginning to rot now,
and nobody likes the smell either.
I stand at a safe distance
and watch the lesion that he is grow in size.
Pieces of flesh are left where ever they sit,
as they discuss the world and how they'll change it.
He scabs up and she picks at it
leaving the room a mess.
I tell everyone to ignore them
simply because we all know
it's just a pissing contest.
Sunday, December 27, 2009
Wednesday, December 9, 2009
Cold Wet Bones
You are not here... in the future I mean.
You're not here now and you won't be here then.
You were around in the past but barely at times.
I was around at all times.
You don't look very brave when I talk to you.
You think bravery comes from standing against the horizon
while the waves are speeding towards you.
You, with your arms out and your head hanging low, knee deep in the saltwater.
You never looked like someone to crucify but we're the only ones here most of the time.
My arms don't hang as nicely as yours either.
My head doesn't weigh down on my chest.
You don't look very brave when I see you.
You think bravery is screaming angry words at the snow covered mountains
instigating an avalanche.
I think bravery is standing next to you, who is quicker than the waves and colder than the snow.
You're not here now and you won't be here then.
You were around in the past but barely at times.
I was around at all times.
You don't look very brave when I talk to you.
You think bravery comes from standing against the horizon
while the waves are speeding towards you.
You, with your arms out and your head hanging low, knee deep in the saltwater.
You never looked like someone to crucify but we're the only ones here most of the time.
My arms don't hang as nicely as yours either.
My head doesn't weigh down on my chest.
You don't look very brave when I see you.
You think bravery is screaming angry words at the snow covered mountains
instigating an avalanche.
I think bravery is standing next to you, who is quicker than the waves and colder than the snow.
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