Saturday, July 16, 2011


"I'm so sad," she said,
"Is there anything I can do for you?" he asked,
"I just need to escape...leave myself, y,'know?" she replied,
"Why are we so alone?" he asked himself under his breath,
"There's others here but I feel like I'm behind glass...and I want to break through..." she stated,
"Maybe you need to move out of yourself, touch the pain...your strong enough to do that," he replied,
"I don't know..." she said quietly,
"Look," he said pointing at the night sky,"the stars...contingent, apparitions of what the spirit they eventually leave no trace."
"Where should I start?" she asked,
"You can start where we are...between the grit and the grace," he replied,
"so wherever?" she asked,
"Wherever," he replied.


Juice Box said...

I really like this. It's different than your usual style, but there's a lot of feeling here. A sense of being lost and looking to find yourself.

Fisheye Lens said...

Absolutely right, Dox. If we don't start somewhere ... anywhere ... wherever, then it becomes likely that we never will. I'm still trying to learn that lesson, but its improving. Things don't have to be balled up at the Head Office -- let's open it up and toploader our way back into the Grand Productive Days.

The Square Corner said...

Really awesome. This is prose as poetry. More please! More please!

Old Ollie said...

style...sweet and cool...grit and grace...