Friday, August 29, 2014

i feel like a calendar flip, like the
fast forward button.
those hour talks turn to 
only flashes of sentences 
or her face
when she's not looking at anything
at all
"we've been having a conversation for 
nearly two years
and wouldn't you know,
i've still got things to say"

i am nervous in this storm,
my sickness dies only with my body so i guess
we're stuck this way 
for awhile. 
fighting the good fight-
the booming of canons never quite
leaving the sky
all the way, a ringing echo 
like the sound of throbbing
or
a sleeping computer hum, the shaking grind of cogs,
you put your head to my chest
and listen for the ocean
like empty seashells-
the ringing never quite
leaving your ears
all the way

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