I. Appelquist (iris_on_fire) wrote, @ 2006-02-22 23:44:00

my eyes grow
the night wears
me as a sweater
protecting again
st this man
made weather...what
(? we
have of what remains
is not so
easily seen or
named for all the other
ness it posse
sses. (here) con
densed & at the (ebb)
flow as if there were
n't a stop or end
to it. & (this is) how
it happens, of course;
unfelt unheard...except
One's very veins
know & id
entify while the flesh
disappears beneath
the stars' beat
ings. my eyes grow
tired.

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