Jun 5th, 2006 1:20:22 am - Subscribe

To hold my sadness in your hands.
Your hands you wring with anxiety.
And like a press, strangle my sadness out.

I want you.

To place your hands around my throat.
My throat that chokes on silent words.
And help it cough, expel those sticky syllables.

I want you.

To arrange your body next to mine.
Like identical puzzle pieces, stuck edges.
And we'll glue ourselves to a plasterboard to hang on a wall, displayed for all to see.


I want you.


I am tired, and that is all for this evenings' news report. Catch our lunch broadcast for more pressing details.

June 05th, 2006

June 05th, 2006