token human


I'd bet my life...
Because I don't have much to lose.

Sad strings being plucked at
by your callous fingers.
Rearranged into a frightening
web. Pinning me
in.
Spinning me out
like a tired old story.
Raw tragedy disguised as human glory.
I lazily absorb
the tinted
sunlight
that is shadowing my failures
like a silhouetted glass.

Do you still half smile
when you see a swallow
gagging on its babies?

I do.
I've become you.

I'd sell my soul...
It's not worth the skin it's printed on.

Spidery whispers
poison the hallway,
their hollowness silky
and static,
like a poem;
like a grave draped in clouds.

I cannot stop counting raindrops,
hearing raindrops
in my brain.
It's dripping me insane.
You flooded my spirit.
I siphoned your pain.



© 2001, Arden Davidson