Night Noises

The fan is whirring

back and forth

back and forth

but it kills the silence

and it comforts me

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The photograph does no justice

to the face it represents and

the pixelated mockery

only accentuates

the need of putting

the camera away

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May ’09

It’s funny how

“It’s meant to be”

always passes

over me

But all the smoke

from in the fire

fills up my lungs

something dire

And though I am not


the way we go makes

me suspicious

But–hey!–why not

let’s carry on

even though we

don’t belong

And live this farce

that’ll never be

just you for you,

me for me

But even now

it’s plain to see

that we both had

it awry.




Why do we choose to hide?

It is not as though we masquerade

in vanity and glee

to choose our own


But it’s like a twisted play

in which we portray

that which startles us.

It’s not the masks we wear,

the masque we play,

it’s the face in the mirror

that makes you think

your stomach sink

and wonder why

we have the audacity

to think that we can

hide in plain sight

when we’re far from hidden

at all.