Poetry
March 30, 2006 @ 10:59 p.m.

We run, we run, like bullets from a gun
Charging off hereafter
We don't remember where we're from
We don't remember where we're going
It's all been lost in the thrill of the chase
Charging off hereafter

We run, we run, like bullets from a gun
Shot at midnight,
Greeting mid-September nighttime
With an echoing sharp cacophony
(Charging off hereafter)
Charging off hereafter

We run, we run, like bullets from a gun
Dodging questions, faking answers
Too deep now, we cannot breathe
Charging off hereafter
It's all been lost in the thrill of the chase
Charging off hereafter

----

We shatter together,
broken shards of glass
littering the pantry floor.
Soft linoleum tiles
m a g n i f i e d
in depths of shadows,
bending the unbreakable lines
of black and white squares.

We fell through fingers
(easily, like it was meant to be)
swirling to the inevitable destiny
that meets all rushing things,
connecting with the tiles
in a swift crash.

Then it was over,
and we lay together
until swept away by those who do not
appreciate
the beauty of broken glass.

. .

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Version 14: Hurricane. Photo from freefoto, font is Hurricane.