[ .cross.roads. ]
at the cross roads between you and me,
a mile or so the sign says;
we're staring at the face of recovery,
in the cracked and misplaced
mirror in your mind;
dust and breath collide,
as we walk the mile;
shoes push,
heart aches;
souls break with day
upon unearthly things;
and I take me back,
to all the places real and combined;
encrusted with the rust of yesteryear,
we wake with the sleeping children all round,
and wonder were we are;
which place represents peace,
and which place represents torment.
� B McLean 1998
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[ thirteen matches (edit) ]
13 matches burn so bright
13 matches guide my way
13 matches for every level
heaven to hell
a walk I still recall
a walk that we become
13 matches in my pocket
and one brass locket
with my black blue wings
behind me swallowing all light
13 matches, they become me
one bright flame of passion
a kissing caressing
ocean of tongues and lips
are what my skin is made of
my fingers streach out inside
a hooded, budded mound;
still amazed that
13 matches are me.
� B McLean 1998
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