currently listening to
delicate,
damien rice
leave me alone
under my bleak sheets
where a fragile warmth remains a little longer
grasping for something beneath, beyond
grasping for the motivation to grasp at all
the energy to battle an ever-deepening poison
of that can't-be-bothered anarchy.
some say that if we keep on searching
we will find
but what about all those who give up
that cooled pearl necklace
is still sitting between a floorboard and mousetrap
behind their wardrobe
and without finding it,
a waste of time,
a waste of time.
the pelican appeared quizical
on the cereal box my mother clutched that morning,
and a pale-faced boy was pressing his streaming nose up against my bedroom window.
a thrush sang muted from her tree branch,
the baby broke cry next-door -
silence, that elusive mysterically-colored fabric
sought solitude in my confused mind;
and a heart elsewhere
still musing over you
froze, active
as lucy's diamonds plummeted from the sky
and gently slid down lays of right
onto the elderly lamppost standing in the snow.
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