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sab
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midnight
has clicked over again
once again
once again again again
tick tick tick sang alice softly
[under her breath]
tock tock tock
[she muttered in reply].
i had a friend
[just a friend]
who once told me
that she would only be alive
for only a finite amount
of sunrises and sunsets
and that she didnt want to miss
a single one.
the witching hour and been
and gone
and again, i barely noticed
somehow i feel that i have betrayed
the magic of the hour
the magic in the dark of the night
the beauty of the moon at midnight
the wisdom and strength of the ancients
and i feel that somehow, i have betrayed the mirror image of my friend
of her theory
i have betrayed her negatives
i once stuck all the negatives i've ever found
up to my window
and every weekend afternoon
the sun shone in
like through a stained glass window
a sab obbession, taped to the glass
found objects can be the most beautiful
things lost by humans
are found by the fae
and moved around the world
as gifts for those
who keep one eye on the ground
ani once told me
"cuz when i look down i just miss all the good stuff, when i look up i just trip over things"
and i smiled at her
but didnt have the heart to tell her
beautiful, illumiated, joyous face
that this was the one time
she was
wrong.
so i went to my kitchen window
the one with the broken blind
and stodd in the littlier darkness of my home
and stared out into the greater darkness
of the night.
the night is bigger than i am
but it is welcome to tea
any time at all.
but it must keep it's cold fingers
to itself.
i dont mind being felt up by the night
but only if it hasnt been hailing first.
long cold fingers of the night
brush across my skin
and i think of my bed
once more.
by christ im fucking cold
my bed
my bed that i dont own
my bed that the real owner hasnt seen
in half a decade
and when she comes back
she will take it back
and i guess i'll end up
sleeping on the boxes
that are no longer under the bed
that isnt there.
how can so much dust
gather under something so solid
as my not-my bed?
maybe i should take advantage of her bed
while she still does not need it.
the bed might be hers
but the blankets and clothing are mine
and i will fight them to the death
every night
i dreamed of her, who is not her
and i dreamed of them who were not there.
i once dreamed of Those That Are
and i woke up in the morning with a new religion.
funny how people can find life paths and teachings
in the most unexpected places.
her bed has barbed wire under it.
nailed to the outside of a box.
i have scars aplenty from barbed wire
it is a hard meduim to work with.
hard
sharp
bit from coloum a, bit from colum b
and with that, i will retire.
i wish i could retire.
i retire from the feild undefeated
and crawled off to sleep in the bath
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040612
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