13 December 2010


Mere 12/13

The edge of mind is a cup overfull in the sink rusting
The sound of water dripping in is a heart beat in a cathedral

In this space is where one paces the ‘what now’ the ‘how much’
The columns of smoke are not from fires are not for warmth

Borderlands are dark from not knowing what they are
The house is a shattered safespace its portholes mouths

What all this adds to is the feeling of drowning while on land
You’ve been stabbed you feel fine keep walking smile for the cameras

Each breath your lungs fill with blood your heart seizes
But you will feel no pain you will slip effortlessly over the cliff

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