Saturday, May 2, 2009

Saturday.

when the red turns to black
the wounds are reopened
i fear the worst
the lights have run away
and my skin begins to boil
these cells are nothing but
a nucleus of waste and flesh
the water will not dry
sea streams have stolen my salt
these pieces are broken,
a secret mosaic
still secret to my eyes
i will not find you
and i can only feel scared and unsure
of what will happen tomorrow.

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