the man in the mirror
has scars i can't remember
has feelings i can't quite place
the reflection in the water
is drowning and i can't rescue
from the grave to the sand
to the place where we stand
waterfall away the motionless
cast upon the memory that is scattered
juxtaposed insitue with creation
cut away the marble
leave only a unicorn behind
the man in the mirror
ha movements not in my dance
forward, back, back, side, back
where is he going?
where is it he aims his claws
drinking to the summarizer whom counts down to one
movement guaranteed till morning is nigh
escape
break the window, watch the shards fall
darkness descends, where to from here
the man in the mirror has no mind
from here he only goes as far away as he can
Tuesday, October 27, 2009
Tuesday, October 20, 2009
Lalalalalalala
Where did it all go wrong?
That was the last thought I remember thinking as I fell seven stories out of the broken office window. I assumed that it could have begun with the waking up in the morning, but i doubted that to a degree. Clearly I had gotten up many days in a row and not fallen 7 stories to my, soon to be, extensive relocation of body parts. Although, it did occur to me now in hindsight that this was a great opportunity for that plastic surgery I had always wanted.
I thought back, maybe there was something else that could have been the warning sign. It wasn't the extensive traffic this morning either, clearly the fact that all the roads I tried to take were detouring me in circles wasn't a sign. Neither was the ridiculous flashing neon sign at the front door of the complex saying "no entry". I mean really, the pranks some people play these days.
Climbing the stairs to the top, I passed a few comrades who were all oddly leaving already. Clearly they'd been fired and were leaving for greener pastures, not evacuating like the siren would suggest. Maybe it was the yellow tape that was gaurding my door. That seems like a more likely solution to my current problem. If only that yellow tape had been thick enough to stop me entering the room, I would not now be falling what appears to be already 6 stories. Lovely, only one more to...
That was the last thought I remember thinking as I fell seven stories out of the broken office window. I assumed that it could have begun with the waking up in the morning, but i doubted that to a degree. Clearly I had gotten up many days in a row and not fallen 7 stories to my, soon to be, extensive relocation of body parts. Although, it did occur to me now in hindsight that this was a great opportunity for that plastic surgery I had always wanted.
I thought back, maybe there was something else that could have been the warning sign. It wasn't the extensive traffic this morning either, clearly the fact that all the roads I tried to take were detouring me in circles wasn't a sign. Neither was the ridiculous flashing neon sign at the front door of the complex saying "no entry". I mean really, the pranks some people play these days.
Climbing the stairs to the top, I passed a few comrades who were all oddly leaving already. Clearly they'd been fired and were leaving for greener pastures, not evacuating like the siren would suggest. Maybe it was the yellow tape that was gaurding my door. That seems like a more likely solution to my current problem. If only that yellow tape had been thick enough to stop me entering the room, I would not now be falling what appears to be already 6 stories. Lovely, only one more to...
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