Sunday, January 31, 2010


Slick smooth surfaces, exist in perfect worlds...
but our progress moves on hard rigid stones...

Familiar to pain--loves paradigm is conflicted,
often too complex to be put into sentence.
we seek to be pure, but tainted love is all thats produced,
I hate me and I love you...

Yet I sit here on a cold splintered floor attempting to rub my hands across it,
expecting no splinters but bleeding to the cold reality of painful sacrifice for the sake of learning.

Images reoccurring-you can rarely make sense of my phrases,
clarity seems to be tainted and I attempt to make sign language to get my point to you.
But regardless of attempts that digress my message,
Im left tainted with the memory of you, so moving on is not expected--
in a world that tells me that without you I am nothing,
protection exists within your arms, and here I am at harm...

Tainted with tears, pain and thoughts,
can't start on clean slates,
can't begin new paths,
labyrinths entangle my reason, and clarity is tainted by the constant contemplation of your arrival.

Until then I am expected to bite out of that poisonous apple,
because I can rarely make reason out of thoughts,
and I can never imagine a love so pure without you...

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