August 09, 2008
most nights it is an untasted sleep, blank and evaporating
lick the corners of a dry mouth
otherwise
cloying dreams; a bitter
aftertaste
suffocating corridors, spiralling staircases; caught in a vortex
look over shoulder, a disappearing back
or maybe
a composite figure of quick glances, stolen
last looks
what distance is -
the feeling of absence and
presence
withdrawal, a liberation from distraction
life races along, taking you in its slipstream
breathe;
like you're not wanting to.
lick the corners of a dry mouth
otherwise
cloying dreams; a bitter
aftertaste
suffocating corridors, spiralling staircases; caught in a vortex
look over shoulder, a disappearing back
or maybe
a composite figure of quick glances, stolen
last looks
what distance is -
the feeling of absence and
presence
withdrawal, a liberation from distraction
life races along, taking you in its slipstream
breathe;
like you're not wanting to.