Like makeup on a corpse’s cheek
Her eyes give the appearance of warmth.
Touch the floor beneath her pillow,
The weight of dreamless sleep
Has imprinted a crop-circle on the carpet.

It’s when she blinks she is exposed.
Light pierces opaque skin
And organs cast shadows.
Denial synchronises eyelids
And dead skin powders your desk.

Draw a calendar in the dust
And count down daily vomit,
And the lingering smell.
Complacency clings to the walls,
And the lingering smell.

She will kiss you but
She will not let you look at her.
She will the say the vows but
She will not say your name.
Doubtful whispers echo softly.

There is a voice in the wind
That comes from her lungs into yours.
Says nothing but greetings;
Depth is spread shallow like butter,
Dead weight your shoe.

Stay still or walk bare foot,
Soul to the ground to a halt.
This is biased indecision when you know that
Waiting is giving up.
Move? Move? Move?

Written early June 2010. Some music my brother made for me to read the poem over.

Visit my brother's soundcloud:


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