Monday, July 13, 2009

I dreamt of limp arms,
hundreds of them
hanging over the side of a bridge.
Every time a ship sailed underneath
the fingernails from hundreds of dead bodies
scraped the wood of the top deck
slowing it down ever so slightly
as if they had something to say.
Thousands of fingers pointing downward
counting thousands of ripples in the river.
The riverbed holding old fishing hooks,
ink from old letters that were never read,
the blank paper that no longer holds meaning
Screws, rotting wood, anchors holding nothing in place
a lens from a pair of old glasses belonging to an old pair of eyes that no longer see
pieces of life jackets that failed to save lives
broken tea cups where fish now lay their eggs
wedding rings and broken promises
bones from fingers pointing the blame at everyone but themselves
of watches full of water and stopped time
And the hands of the dead bodies will forever point downward
Like the hands of the broken watches

Thursday, July 9, 2009

We crave the attention of so many bodies
So many eyes looking our way
Hundreds of smiles we return
Yet we still have this void
The emptiness within
What will fill me up?
God, how easily I lose my grasp
on what makes my face light up
My heart remains warm
So easy to turn to the faces that do not know who I really am
How can I find myself in the eyes of the selfish?
So many fragile hearts,
Too many broken
The hands of the clock lay limp
We're wasting our time anyway
Constantly planning our futures
up until we die
Breaking over and over again
Up until the glue has run out
Where has all the time gone?

Wednesday, July 8, 2009

The leaky pipes up within the clouds
They're pouring down on me
The rain is warm,
it touches the skin like delicate fingertips
Pleasantly soaking me inside out
Washing away the dirt layering itself on the outside of my soul
What was once wearing me thin
Is now a puddle surrounding my feet
I'm free to walk away completely pure
Hand in hand with the sky