pebbled moonlightShe woke in the dark. Not with a start; not hopelessly entangled in the bedsheet-arms of concocted peril; not covered in a cold sweat. The dreams had become far too routine to merit so grandiose a finale as that, anymore. Same unfamiliar house; same flight from the same intangible horror, through the same field of shoulder-high grass that left her legs in crimson, burning tatters but her clothing untouched; same eerily swinging picture window, through which could be seen the same idyllic craggy ocean view, and accompanied by the same nauseating acceptance that the knife grasped purposefully in her right hand would not prevent her destruction. Same sharks. She had never understood the sharks. The only thing that ever changed was the knife. Last night, it had been long, notched and grooved as from hacking through bone. She blamed the cold Chinese food a
yesterdayFingers pressed against my lips,Old embraces long gone cold.Meaningless to those I loved;Hello, my name is yesterday.Fated sink for vengeful hate,Standing north on a compass faceWhose needles point unearned blame.Enduring, I am yesterday.The faded photo on the wallIs grainy faces, flecks of light,But never lessons learned.Hello, my name is yesterday.Goodbye.