THE INTERZINE

the curtains won’t stop breathing.
they continue to rise and collapse into themselves on what will later be branded the longest day of my life.this “keeping infinitely busy” trick was easy. sitting alone, with nothing to console a bitter brain but your racing mind for what seems to be forever. it’s sure to drive the soul into a fit of rage, spitting fire as he twist his hollow head in dismay, trying to squeeze out the butterflies that can’t find the courage to settle. but at that fine gentleman, i must say; along my lonely way engraved like statues in the back of my mind were images of these events just passed. in different forms perhaps, it would seem as if it were the first time we meet, when in fact we walked this path before, long before the earth was round, you and i were simple myths that floated in the hearts and heads of hopeful children. passed down from stories that couldn’t be told, our souls meet long ago and waited catatonically to be granted flesh and blood so that our material bodies could hold each other so lovingly that is burns straight to the bone.