"And how will your night dances lose themselves
--in mathematics?" -- S.Plath



you still burn me,
you pinch my veins
with the skepticism that
so easily tears out of your heart..

--like the walls that surround you were
already caving in--

and I am told, over the twisted
lines of this solemn telephone
that utopia is unreachable,
but that I'll always touch
only to be crushed..

perhaps emptiness should fill me,
and pearl white dresses should slip
off of my body.
revealed, revealing..
I am the crushed pills.
show me all you are.

never shun, never shun

and defeated bed sheets hang
down from waxy candles,
the waxy candles on your wall.

your vines remind me of my childhood..

-I'll never know why you are not here-

"of thee I sing, tied to a string"

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