Friday, September 27, 2013

rain



with the tiniest glare, the lights form human figures wailing against the liquid mist. here, i sit, abbreviated, past midnight, with fingers counting long lonely days. between sighs i forage history, between numbers i create perfect memories in order to exist here, now. but, without  proper burial,  the secret of my darkness thrashes in silhouettes against my will. my perfect memories tipping over exposing open wounds that ooze empty gestures. here, i assimilate with the brutal silence in the corner.

5 comments:

  1. Sounds like.. a mist.. night.. winter.. memories.. a ghost?

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  2. All the above. A haunting memory that produces ghosts.

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  3. Good evening, Z. There won´t be new updates in a while? Ánimo.

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  4. Good evening, Z. Won´t be any updates during these summer months? Ánimo.

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  5. Good evening, J.J. Thanks for reading and your inquiry, perhaps there will be. (Also, i wish I could read Spanish.)

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