JACK'S EUPHORIA///

i. the silence is broken. evening falls, disassembling the day. the telephone wires tremble with nightfulness. your skin smells duskily, i had whispered timidly. i only realize now that it smells as dark as the night’s tremors, as dark as incense, as dark as the sweetly spoken intonations of sadness.

ii. we were fools then. we hung dreams off of our arms like sweaters we had shed from our gleaming, golden skin. we liked our foolishness. we spoke in low, lively voices of our naivety. the largeness of the world, the emptiness of space, had not yet reduced us to silence.

iii. suddenly, we recalled what we had forgotten: our hieroglyphic world, where nothing was said or done or thought, only represented through a select set of arbitrary signs. our voices were muffled by the winter evening. our bodies were hidden in the oncoming dusk. our intimate whispers became visible, a collection of our soft-spoken sibilance gathered as a white mist between our red-tipped noses. disillusioned, we destroyed all signs and communicated only through silence.

8:07 AM on Wednesday 18th January 2012 with 4 notes and Comments

tagged: poetry

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