Wednesday, March 01, 2006

Mind Invasion.

The sun beats down on me,
a distant drum
who silently summons
countless tiny invaders.

Intrusive black pests
who forge tiny trails
across open plains and low dipped valleys
of warmed flesh.

Panicked hands swipe and sweep,
brush off slow-witted stragglers,
but agile ants grasp tight
to dance and sway
and pinch to plead,
"Please let us stay."

In soapy solitude I stand,
watch broken bodies
slosh slowly down the drain,
but still I smell
their acrid anger,
and still I sense
their crawling caress.

For weeks after,
my memory finds and flicks
black scrawls that bite
before they disappear.

Just like your words,
just like your secret
I wish I'd never heard.


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