2002

2002 The social trauma on scuttling lizard claws. oozing through the ink laden starless sky above a parade of fools, and lovers. in cocoa sweetness in the dark of hysteria peace finds a nest in a stack of empty pages. my Being, as a whole, a wondrous ellipse in orbit over calm. The black-brown of bean water on a curtain night. semi-disturbed over my lack of insight. like a child-sad-before the reason strikes it’s snake bite blow. A pen, too afraid to let the ink flow, quivers on the end of hope. The eye-burning smoke of tomorrow’s accusations, And tonight’s promises. a boy- tired of his childhood wrapped in wool-individuality with genuine brass buttons admiring the sweet whispers of the couple in the grass. abandoning envy for admiration, the charcoal embers of a night that would end to soon, but barely too late. me, shivering in indecision, waiting for a late kiss that never came, alone, and guiltily treasuring it. suspended between a lost desire and the abandonment of joy. waiting for a life to swallow this one. waiting for something, that has yet to start, to end. A poem that has not been written. A year that has not begun. Written January 1st, 2002 © on Jan 09 2002 10:09 AM PST   0 • 10