young

With a steady hand, I destroy what you once were and make of you the nothing that's on the inside in the different people that make up what you pretend to be and think you really are but only wear like a blindfold touching your skin on the surface. You're no more than the outside layers of a tire that peels off every other mile.

You're no more than a bloodstain on the windowsill of the bird that could not see straight.

But you're not dead and I wonder why. I wonder why.

You're not dead.

The night is young still. Did you listen to the mocking laughter that's breathing in your throat over and over and over and over again.

Can you come over I want to tell you something.
Because the night's still young.

You're getting old. But the water's still smelling funny.
Wash up, my dear before I stab right through to you, reaching beyond the surface. You're screaming on the surface, screaming so loud it rings into the darkness of night.

The night's still young.

'young' JoSav 2005

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