20060923
00:53
I can
wake up
below a heavy comforter,
stretch
and take a run
(one foot forward,
one foot back,)
just to keep
my revolutions in order,
and my days the same
freshly laundered
white.
Then
I can
fall asleep
below the comforting reminder
of the home
I lived in
(passing every day with
family and my dog,)
spend all this time
looking over my shoulder,
watching my window's color
absorb the day's dirt,
just black.
I can't
forget these times,
staring straight up
into a sea of
(extinguished)
stars of plaster -
try to take that
step towards the ceiling hanging
above my days and nights,
fall straight back down
there's no way for me
to move through walls.
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