Tuesday, April 13, 2010

NaPoWriMo Number Thirteen

I haven't forgotten about ten and eleven. They're just stewing.

She gave him that first whispered brush
a backwards rub against should be
when he discovered in base coarse she
didn’t have a magic ingredient
she couldn’t stir pudding into an elixir
and animation won’t wake the dead
and intermittent love can lead to death
and permanence shouldn’t exist at least not
in a sonic wave
He thought if he closed his ears he would
escape from everything she said and
if he couldn’t hear then her waves would
dissipate and fly away and their news might
maybe somehow should be transformed
to couldn’t be and no, baby
don’t worry it isn’t true
you were asleep and
bad things are just bad dreams and death is
just another monster
under the bed

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