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*VIVA VOCE.
02.21.03 @ 2:15 pm the speakers push out waves of air that sound like the beating of your heart. as volume increases it becomes more important for me to concentrate on the rising and falling of this chest [because these lungs might fail to pull in oxygen any longer]. lines of blood from your fingers decorate the tile because digging out the ground is pointless if it won't let you escape. the broken television is screaming sounds of static and burning black and blue to match the pain on your skin. another misread card and another misfelt signal leads to another fallacy of perfection. flames blown out leave trails of smoke that fly around the room creating a path of "where do i turn next?" but like all that is held so dear to me, sulfur too runs out. as the burning wax leaves scars upon the desk, i'll watch in admiration wishing i could drip all over you and cause you the pain that this candle is leaving. most things are too good to be true, anyway. << >> SN–— M |