will I still be remembered under the blare of lights that flood the field, a lone silhouette amongst a hundred others. will I still be able to stand out, a dull worn rag chafing against pastel silks. will I be worth something, even if I try my hardest not to trip and fall in this marathon. will I stand tall like a tree in the middle of a wheat field or will I be fragile as the painting of the moon from its rays upon the glassy canvas of a lake.

You look at me as if it's my job
To save you from what ensues
Well, I am no knight
Girl I've got my own issues

I am not who you think I am
You'll never understand
That I am part devil
See my red right hand?

You sit and deconstruct the words
I use to deconstruct
And ask me the questions you're
Too afraid to ask yourself

I've sentenced myself to solitude
But you won't let me be
Riding high on the coat tails of fame fame

Answering the same questions differently
I don't even know if my opinions are mine anymore
Is this an origonal thought or was the seed planted
A time ago by an impalpable bellwether?

I don't want your admiration
It's leads to my frustration
I know I'm no lodestar of creation
Your mind needs some mediation
I'm near my peak of exacerbation
Please leave to give me a moments relaxation
I just crave some alleviation

You pull on my lip like an aircraft emergency oxygen system.
Our engines catch fire
as our tongues flutter like the wing's peeling metal,
and as our eyes peek at one another
between each plane crash of lips.

We've lost cabin pressure
as we can no longer control our bodies.
We gasp for each other's breath
as our shimmering structures
roll around on the sky of my bed.

We kiss like we've only got seconds left,
when in reality,
these moments will never die
even if we do.

Time collapses between the lips of strangers
my days collapse into a hollow tube
soon implodes against now
like an iron wall
my eyes are blocked with rubble
a smear of perspectives
blurring each horizon
in the breathless precision of silence
one word is made.

Once the renegade flesh was gone
fall air lay against my face
sharp and blue as a needle
but the rain fell through October
and death lay    a condemnation
within my blood.

The smell of your neck in August
a fine gold wire bejeweling war
all the rest lies
illusive as a farmhouse
on the other side of a valley
vanishing in the afternoon.

Day three    day four    day ten
the seventh step
a veiled door leading to my golden anniversary
flameproofed free-paper shredded
in the teeth of a pillaging dog
never to dream of spiders
and when they turned the hoses upon me
a burst of light.