February 26, 2006 sunday - 21:53

these nights of sleeping like brother and sister
warming the cold in my room
i lie on your side of the empty bed
breathing in the last of your perfume

and the stars spiral into dust
and the moon sings in the sky
my hands grip the silent pillows
as the lightlines start to die.

it is empty here and i am alone,
returning to my clean brushed steel life
i grow drunk on the cotton wool quiet
i become swallowed by the endless night.
you play the game without penalties
but the losers bear the cost
i am just another notch on your bedpost
as you are on mine,
a particularly deep, dark, blood-red slash in the wood.

i keep your secrets
you know mine
even though i trust you only as far as i can throw you.

yesterday it was early, today it is late,
and there is hole i can never fill.

i am too old to be playing with dolls
i am now the toy
i am now your toy.
but in the end,
it returns to my empty bed, of not caring,
and not loving, and friends who look like monsters.

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