kmbrly
i see myself now, sitting there, crouched, by the dim light. but i'm always in a telephone booth. i've always been disgusted by public areas, but this will suffice. i lift the receiver, begin to dial. i'm always dialing for you. the gentle click of acquiescence, and the ringing. i wait for the low grumble of your voice, and it gives me that old rush of comfort.
sometimes i feel you in my bottom. when i say bottom, i mean the bottom of my heart. i don't know anymore, except i feel you there, in the ditch that is my heart. where are you now. oh.
i have said before that although i am not perfect i would be temperate, the temperate murmur of summer or the placid river's bend. i will shy away from this brutal, mean, consuming thing so hateful inside of me. i have said it all and my words haunt me in tiny ways. my anger chips away like a bird would at a pine, and i feel it sting me and awful moments and i want it all to go away.