Thursday, November 5, 2009

Day 108: James

James says some nights

He can hear Jessica tap dancing on his scull

She is easels paintbrush dancing on his memories

Rhythmic broken screaming in his eardrum

When do you sleep james?

When are your thoughts silent enough to dream to?

Does Jessica ever feel like a lullaby?

James the last time I held you

it was two hours until night

two hours until I could feel your mind flip

dive into conversations one after the other dialogue

with persons stuck somewhere in the space between your ears

dancing along the place where your thoughts use to be

james calls his mother dreamer

and she tells him at sunrise

there is nothing in the dark of your mind

but he

he knows she doesn't know what teddy bears turn into in the dark

at sunset

she only sees her son turned christopher robin holding childhood too tight

and jessica is the only one who never forgets to kiss him goodnight

sometimes james mothers forgets what name he answers to so she slings silent prayers to her son


there is no room for more voices between his ears

there is already too much clutter there

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