Untitled - November 21, 2003

Living in a world
of both black and white,
going back to find
a simpler place in time,
where the difference 
between living and existing
was like separating 
the night and day 
into a world of light
and dark.

Receding into the background
where the shadows play soft
against the embankment of white,
and the sounds are muted
against the harsh noise
of daytime.

Shining a candle's flame
against the crisp moment
of absolute coolness;
it's cold fire
against warm senses.

Writhing against softness
until all that is felt
is the barest sensation
of silk against
smooth hide.