Sunday, December 04, 2005

Atrophy

the boiling tea sits stagnating,
mere tears come in call steam home -
a southern sun asking for "pardons"
;and the incense begins to sting the nostrils.

nothing fits how it once did - causation -
a familiar glance and broken tongues
go-go-boys and girls, dance in the hallways -
flourescent again - worst than it is - is it?
snow cover stairs, to a coughing room.

what is this for anymore, a few more shots,
the vodka is strong enough to burn it away
(go away and find solace)
the lights may give out any moment, burn brighter
candles. burn until there is no meaning left.

no, no, no, there is nothing here, but the vaugness.

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