Tuesday, November 16, 2010

blood-lust paper cut

it's almost instinctive,
bringing your finger
to your lips
your tongue meets the cut
and the metallic taste
is sharp
for a moment
clearing the layer of dust
from a place in your memory
but somehow
the fear
and those things you felt
aren't so far away
as you watch the
red shine
fill the grooves of your fingerprint
the only people
who don't break
eye contact with you
are in advertisements

we're forced to look away
and pretend our eyes
never met

Wednesday, November 3, 2010

the empty streets
or crowded trains
remind you
how slowly
the minutes pass
once you are
a one
a single
a person
all by your lonesome