pennylane731's Diaryland Diary

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extra

ice floats in the tiny brook
the snow keeps its secrets
but the murder was yours

you hate telling the story
over & over & over
("maybe i'd be safer
if the bullet was meant for me")

research and writing
your hands are shaking
your eyes are screaming for sleep
unaffected and detached -
an impossibility

struggling in silence
turn on the TV
dream of burials in snow - so peaceful
remembering your near-miss
whiskey's in the cabinet
can you drown to yesterday; will you wake up in a lie?

it's so expensive
the way we set examples
this is where the broken hearts
of broken homes will lead you

glassy-eyed
no remorse

you'd wring him blue with a smile

8:47 p.m. - 2005-01-25

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