Friday, December 11, 2009

raise your rose colored glasses

fleeting, so
quick it was
the definition of
instant, like
oatmeal or a
seizure or a bus
smashing you on
a random tuesday
quick decision, now
locking the numbers
on the phone,
everything so
nothing can replace
what once existed
so gilded and golden
i will not budge
not an inch, not
a day, just
rot away
in these pretty, fake,
wobbly walls
they will get stronger,
again, they will get
better with age
i will build
build until the
sun sets and casts
shadow puppets under
my lids
i don't know how
to do anything
gracefully, except
dance in this dark
and wish for colder
and hopefully the hands
on the clock
will push me through
please, i want
them to.


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