Mar. 04, 2004 @ 12:06 a.m.

Snare, tom, kick, the bass and beating of this drum is only my heart as my thoughts turn over like a car engine with a set of brand new spark plugs and a sparkling new battery. Entertaining the ideas of romancing you with white wine. With identical glasses sitting on a shiny white tablecloth next to your heart resting perfectly centered in the comfort of a personalized holster, dressed in bright red velvet that is skillfully stapled to pristine mahogany as if the box itself could bleed better than it’s contents. After these best selling thoughts I could never wish to greet the morning sky without you in my arms. My head sees you standing there holding something in your hands. As the imagined zoom closes in, I realize it’s not my hope, not my heart in your clasp. Waking up could be so hard to do but I manage to just in time to run away like a naked child through an old growth forest. Holding soft, stuffed comfort in his arms, tripping over the oldest stump in the thicket as he loses the two front teeth in a burst of red, splattering onto brown canvas like the beginnings of a Jackson Pollock, just as the sun fades life to black over the shattered image he clutched in his grasp.