Tuesday, June 27, 2006

Draining Her

(a Scheherazade Project Entry)

Her trust for him had grown
The months spent together
Sleeping in his arms
Waking to his touch
And in his absence
Still feeling him move inside her

His gift was as he asked
Every lamp burning bright
Mirrors raised all around
A tripod at the edge
A bed with crisp white sheets
Her wrists bound with silken ties

He joined her on the bed
Sliding ties around the frame
Binding her before him
Kissing her with care
He whispered for the first time
'I love you'

Her silence unexpected
He raised his gaze to hers
Her face was cold and void
Her eyes dead and vacant
Her lips moved in soundless words

He learned that she was Empty

Saturday, June 10, 2006


Do you know when it happens?
Or do you look around you, seeing the faces of people you know grimacing and shadowing over, and begin to realize: I’m melting down.

Things change before you can stop them.
Before you can decide if you could or would or even should.
You find yourself at the center of things.
Faces and objects revolving around you.

Spinning so quickly that you know if you only reached out, tried to grab one, to see it’s shape instead of a blur, you couldn’t withdraw, you would be swept inside or lose your arm resisting.

You start to question.
Are these things revolving or am I?

Curling centrally, rotating so quickly, dizzying, spellbinding, screaming, but the words won’t be heard because the whoosh you're creating overtakes them.

Don’t stop or you’ll be sick.

Don’t stop or you’ll be sick.