Blending In

Drowning in oxygen,
Face to face with time.
Tomorrow hides behind a glass clock;
A reflected image of future.

Whispers drift towards daybreak
Where they will all be
Bleached clean by the sun.
Nobody wants to listen to whispers.

Lingering eyes are obvious
And oblivious to difference.
Comparisons draw blood from
Flesh disguised as granite.

A stone haemorrhage
Dampens illusions of tessellation,
Shapes become swollen and puffed up;
Proud pieces make a crooked puzzle.

You need oxygen to
Breath in these whispers,
And blood to collect them
But where do I fit in with this heart and lung?

Sitting on the stone,
Blending in.

Written May 2010


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