Lines BetweenNov 15, 2007 - 23:34 PM PST Lines read between, never quite seem so cool, drank deeply, swallowed quickly the numbness rushing in, and releasing. Yet I can't grasp the meaning or understand the indirect hypothesis of what I've read. Yet the hope still sits, sips, gnaws.. and slips in and out of consciousness like a drunken lush at the end of an evening, spilling over into a deadened slumber, knowing it will awaken with a thirst, and the dry, acrid taste of the day after. Lines read between, words still slipping from my lips, falling onto the floor, with no remorse, or second thought, or guilt or control, regurgitated incessantly, and frothed over with warm thoughts, and spasming with the lucid dream of the night before. Lines read between, I swear.. As God as my witness. as horrible as I feel, I'll never read like that, again. |
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