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To rebekah hearn's next piecejust another red light as time stops and stands still watch words flower out of your mouth bloom beauty into a deep dark mystery tunnel. life is still a burning question, one we never answered; so several years and many tears cause me to open an old box of lies, and mend some broken ties, and find our time contained in one simple box--one stack that misspells my life i have danced with my insecurities showed them the two-step during a flickering dream where i knew i could fix you. pursuing the past of most suffering with some kind of something branding a mark on the foreheads of the haves and killing off the have nots- breaking you was like the breaking of pangea i'll never live to see that one down. another red light, turns to green light, and i make the shade hide my eyes from the stranger who looks like danger from across the way, looks like a night of trouble and a lifetime of green lawns children big cars and dogs maybe at this point who could wish for more? me. i'd rather die a thousand deaths than live a grey life that's more than i've even pictured in the last five minutes i'd rather die with your smell in my hair, wrapped around a telephone pole than live their lives; a simulacrum of 'real' and 'good' and 'true'. well, murder is real and true and even good at times--and how does that fit into your pretty little picture? but i fall into the trap and take a trip upon your visions where it is revealed that your indifference to difference molds the core for our disaster: but tonight, i guess, is not the night for suicide.
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