Mission
remembering at 5:42 p.m. on 2004-07-30
I wish I knew the secrets
that darkness was not inviting, and so addicting to the tongue
But in truth, it�s passion that exists.
It caresses me in the moon light.
A sallow face, haunting me like a second skin.
It knows no depravity.
It fills me with an urgency, compliance from the ink
Breathing in my ear, beneath the silence.
Beneath the things (I come to realize), you cannot hear.
called depressive
monotony
dark
The things that have to be peeled off of you in order to return to the aware.
If only I were to ever surface,
I may never remember who I was.
Or who I chose to be.
You, alone in this womb
make me feel the inviolability of a dream,
the way the ocean lulls me atop the crest of my words.
They fall from my lips like the movements that go unnoticed,
between you, and I.
I cannot rely
On your grace alone.
never was � never will be
