Subdermal Issue

May 20 2006

the past is a winding stairway

inconvenient and shaky

leading to the lower floors

of adolescence

If only the floors below

were not made of plexi-glass

i could ignore those fleeting days

those wasted ways of waiting in vain

But instead my tears tear holes

they melt like acid through the glass

and then the smell of you

the tone of your voice flushes up

Like a backed up toilet in summer

gather a party around it?

more like flee for someone else to deal

but no one else can touch it

outside there is a sky

and outside there is freedom

but in here i feel nothing

for the decade relinquished to you

We sleep under the same calming night sky!

that same diamond canopy..

do you ever feel regret?

at least for your abusive ignorance?

I have gained the strength

to paint over the floors of this past-tinium

i rejoined the self i left in '04

and he helps me fill the cracks of who i am

together, we will figure out my path

but for now, these white hills call my name

the lawrence tells stories to me

And my life has never been the same.