just words. February 12, 2008

blurred. smeared. smudged. ruined
crumbled. torn. and coffee stained.
taken carelessly, ripped unevenly,
from the pages of a forgotten journal.
a piece. a single version. partial.
incomplete, incoherent. rambling.

in the middle February 1, 2008

In the middle;

In the middle I glance down,

And from this rickety bridge,

That spans across miles of nothingness;

All I see is a swirl of desert sand,

Creating a haze, making it hard to see,

Beyond the very place that I now stand.

The light in the distance,

Which used to be guiding me

In what might be the perfect direction,

Has become so dim that it’s rays

Can no longer reach out to me;

So I stand confused, forgetting,

Which direction I came from, just before,

And in which direction I was heading.

The bridge creaks beneath me,

Urging me to take a step in some direction;

It can no longer hold the dead weight

Of me, standing still, indecisive and blind.

I begin to pace, one way, then the other,

Not seeing which direction to take,

Pausing before I turn to go the other way,

But always turning, never proceeding in

One direction, hesitant to reach the end of either.

The boards beneath me waver and I begin

To feel them crack beneath my incessant pacing;

Reminding me that I must make a choice, and soon.

But I can’t feel any motivation urging me to move,

To move from this spot that has become familiar;

And yet, the unsteadiness beneath me tells me

That it is, in fact, possible to fall from the middle,

The middle that I once found so safe, so comforting,

Is threatening to crumble, leaving me alone, without.