Saturday, March 19, 2011

lies in the making

i used to work in.
i had my little studio that was hiding in a dark corner,
to hide all of my dark corners.
i hid and i made myself over and over and over again.
i made and i dripped and i scrubbed and you did not know where i was.
you did not know where i was.
you did not know because i was hiding,
i was hiding in my dark corner
making myself

i see god

dream of life, in a giant bubble


i know that i'm thinking four steps ahead; and i know that you're thinking three behind me. i know that you loved me once; and i know that, it was too much but then it wasn't enough. you shattered me to a fine powder, undistinguishable. you scattered what was left in the rain with your bare feet; leaving me a mucky washed away, sad excuse for a paste. you stopped when i had only begun; but i burned you. i rose up and turned what was left of your memory into ash, nothing more then what's at the bottom of a fireplace or the foundation of a house fire. you crackled under my feet and smeared the concrete black with your ruddy remnants. leaving nothing more than a gross stain; because that's what you left, a gross stain; but don't worry baby, i'm scrubbin, just wait, soon you'll be gone.