Monday, December 27, 2010

A WORD OF GLASS.

I find myself not speaking as much.
The moisture of my breath-
begins to leak through my crackled lips.

The bitter cold of a stranger living in my room-
stores my words away.

A thick cloud of mist comes to drape me in beautiful voices.
-
This lung wasn't enough for me.



-

Some might call it the echoes' disease.




THE FEMALE ZOO