I'm not trying to over complicate
Something so simple
As holding a hand.
I have seen too many friends
Strip down until they are completely covered in
Vulnerability.
And watch the person they trust
Take what they want
And treat it as a joke.
This I have decided that the gateway to my trust
Will always be closed.
I'm quick for a kiss
But awfully slow
For holding your hand.

I squirm in my seat.
The pricking of my dreams,
Like a long…
Slow…
Lazy drag
of a soft feather along my back.
Tormenting,
And ticklish,
As all those little stinging secrets
Start to come pouring out.

Our love was slow-roasting.
If we were chicken,
it would have fallen off the bone.

I can see now,
on this night
with it's moon as silky
as freshly laundered sheets,
that all I cared for was small.
And that my thinking them small
made them all the smaller.

There's no one to blame but me.
This, I now can see.

The green tea is hot
As my tongue touches
and licks
the surface.

The steam floats off with its flavor
and burns the tip
and I then put it down
to mind myself
of other things.

But the day is cold
With the trees bending uneasy
And the windows wailing
with their cries.

My feet are cold
As I sit crossed
holding them close
to my thighs.

But still nothing goes
on inside
But still nothing goes
on in my life.
The hot tea I pick up
as I settled it down
a few seconds ago.

“Oh its hot…”
I look outside.
Where did you go.

Tick, Tock
You listen to the drone
Of a fan
Music ticks by
Three minutes, Thirty-seven seconds
Four minutes, Thirty-eight seconds
Five minutes, Ten seconds
Stop
Alt-tab away
Think about something else
You can't listen to this anymore
Fan drones on
Laughing in another room
Someone plays piano next door

Do something, DO something!
Look at downloads
Four hundred and sixteen
Out of
Four hundred and Fifty-three
Time equals
Distance over Speed
Numbers that go forever,
Listen to the story
"Today's going to be a good day"
And write the numbers coming up on the screen
Just to do something
Seven-Eight-Two-Eight-Point-Five-
Seven-One-Four-Two-­Nine
And papers build up around you
It's the same calculation done
Every 10 minutes
Because 35 Kilobytes per second
And you're exhausted
But you need to do something
That isn't hearing the same music,
That isn't playing Solitaire
Over and Over and Over
Watch numbers go up
Write numbers going down
Two hours, Thirty-Five minutes
Two hours, Twenty-Three minutes
Two hours Seventeen
Two hours Ten
Fifty-One

Four-Twenty-Nine-Point-four
Out of
Four-Fifty-Three

Tick Tock
The drone of a fan
The music's stopped
Someone next door has stopped playing piano
Stare
Into the space on your paper
More space
To fill
With numbers