stone telling what you felt that day is unheard reflections are cursed and made obscure pretending to be sick on a day of stone etched in the veins of the ones unknown the victims fall and curse the wind for not carrying them to find a friend on days when life is blisterd cold in a world afraid of growing old there's not much left to save in this place when the vanishing lines reappear on the face of the earth's that drawn upon the ground above and below, lost and found and there's nothing that anyone else can do nothing else to see it through to stop what's been fixed in time can further hurt what's mine. |
| swings with tickles and taunts no one could see this mass of fury that came to be stirring in that little girl are things not of this world |
| this one night, this girl went outside to her back porch. it was very very windy. she thought perhaps she might have to play with tornadoes. a boy from the house whose backyard she could see came over to the fence and said hello. she said hello back, not wanting to be mean. he told her that he lived in the house whose back yard she could see. she said that she lived in straight inside the door behind her. he leaned on the fence and gave her a strange gaze. he asked her what she was doing outside on such a windy night. she told him that she needed to feel cold to be alive. he nodded his head and went on talking about un-important things. she only heard him when he said that he watched her through her window. she asked 'why watch someone not worth watching?' he replied, 'anyone besides myself is intresting.' 'i like the way you move about so carefully among your things scattered on the floor. when you tiptoe, i tiptoe.' finally, the boy leaning on the fence from the house whose yard she could see said 'i love you.' she replied, 'i can't love you, i don't have any strings on my heart for you to pull.' |