Sunday, February 20, 2011

Regret

3.a.m. and I'm outside myself.

How can I miss things I've never had.
Explain it away but still the ghost remains.

Taunting weak moments
with borrowed memories
Culled from unknown sources:
the collective subconscious...or the supraconscious.
Memories of bones meshed and tangled tongue and gaze;

Unborn, yet they wear the skin of regret.

If I've lived epics of the imagination,
in planes that haven't yet been conceived
what does that make me?
Future tense or past imperfect...
Or simply present denied, deferred, refrained.

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Annihilate

My teeth hurt. My head is a vice. Every word I've ever choked down imploding me from inside. My arms hurt. My bones are diamond. ...