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Harvesting the Ephemeral

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20051205 Monday December 05, 2005
The Same ... in Poetry
Here I am
stuck in the same hole
scowling at the endless sand
staring into the same relentless sun
until I go blind
until all my tears of rage have dried
until I can no longer watch your unmoving lips
tell me the same words, yet again
if I could just pull myself free
if I could just make it one more day
salvation lies in the morrow
but isn't it funny, isn't it just precious
how your day never ends

there was a time, there was a lust
to kiss your expressionless face
but that was when I was foolish
long ago in the glow of a spring night

I've forgotten what the darkness is
and I no longer care, no longer yearn
just leave me to my silent tomb
and let the sun boil away
all of my blood and all of the bitterness
that pollutes it so ...
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