February 22, 2005

the screen that talks

it can never be satisfied

it has gone away from me
as if nothing mattered
more than to project illuminated green eyes
green hair
green teeth

it talked with buttons and squares
as if they meant the world
to me;
as close as it could get to my eyes
as close as it could get to my head

no tenderness here
sometimes it lives to press darkness
and death
and tears
those i wish to face and eat up
the cliches of the night
the cliches of heavy void

if it could say "no"
say "i want to rest"
say "enough"
would its buttons and squares
and greens
jump down
bow down
and be shattered
and cry

as i am now so
with bent head
shaking palms

both of us
we mean to stop

we mean to hang
and stop

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