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Thursday, April 12, 2007
Black
And then you said
the black is back
in me
but you don't know
how black this black can get
when it begins
serpentine from the eyes
curlicuing
from my orifices
a noose
around the neck of my spirit
snapping
a flat line
but not the flatline
it the pause
before the scream
that inflates
suffocating
clocks to death
black
as music from a carousel
sung
to a brightly lit
empty carnival
it is this
when in the midst of your hearty laughter
i laugh with you in Aminor
can you decipher
you are far gone
high on serotonin
and i pant
for dear life
in as quick
as a ticki free fall into drishti
Alice down the tunnel
mayday the unlucky wind rider
sadness scratching skin
-- fingernails of a rape victim's
angry ghost --
wishing for something
as definite
as tangible
as concrete
to splatter
all this black
against
CHAI
Posted by inktrip at 10:26 AM