The Enemy of the Good (eideteker) wrote,
The Enemy of the Good

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Listen to the taste of the years that you waste a trace of the space between your face and the pavement I meant to tell you the way that I felt the ground grind grime into my cheek putting dirt in my eye obscuring my sight and hiding you from the light inside for a time but then sublime interfered with the line invisible between us two like a street ethereal piercing an envelope sidereal lying in a dimension concealed by congealed notions and preconceived oceans and gulfs of space that we suppose is between us seperating us but have you seen us so close that our eyelashes touch so little yet so much it's the only thing I want so much to be free to touch to have to hold to be so bold to run to cry to piss on the sky and to fly away from the fear that stalks my naked formulating ideas to escape from this wheel that grinds this steel that binds me to ground and to trudge and drudge in the day in-and-out pits of self-doubt and endless questions from those who care little for answers but love for to talk of how you never provide them but love to deride them as if you could ride them to freedom from what they want to press you into unless your Hindu rope trick allows you to escape the scrape of fate's razor against your frayed veins afraid time gains on your not-yet-corpse stumbling into the ground.

Without a sound...

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