Give Me Liberty

Friday, November 28th, 2008 11:51 PM





She's an open book
words spread out freely amongst the
world
she bleeds the pages,
exposed to weather
exposed to pain
falling
unbalanced
no one to blame
torn and read
in between the lines a small thread
as she waits for her whole story to unfold
in someones hands
someones heart
someones words
shed some light in the dark ink of
the end and once upon a time
there...
cold blank
canvas
titled
named
identity still whatever you think will
explain
the feelings, the actions, the theme,
her concept
reality and tragedy
fantasy and make believe
on floor, on a shelf
in a room, just remembering
where she left herself
ready, open,
time runs out,
slowly, don't rush
one. word. at. a. time.
She wants to be discovered,
to be held, to be loved, to be breathed, to be one... to be one
to see something new, instead of routine
beating
pulse
one. word. at. a. time.
More stories than lives.
Intertwine, don't deny, the full force,
impact,
of each. and. every.
line.
Heart beats. blood rush. fingers touch.
Just one brush. One turn. One.

Go find her, undo her bind.
Surface to fiber,
universal design.

Every. Chance.
One. More. Time.