halt the input

all things you reach for will never satisfy

halt the input
and notice what is

see the image through the glass,
there is someone home already.
notice the House is full,
the hearth warm,
the fire roasting,
there is no need to bring in
a shoulder to cry on

feel the fullness

halt the should
and notice how she does dance

notice there are wings and tails already

notice that she fell on her face,
crashed and tore all the skin
off her life,
bashed her bloody heart,
waded in the cattails,
was struck by lightening
and thunder that tried to deafen...

and notice how
in the mourning she sang!
in the morning the sun did rise
every bit as bright
as the day before she was born

notice that nothing ever layed
her lower than anything else

notice she never scored a goal
of another
and was fine tuned
to her own interior

notice this one that had no name,
yet answered to one,
left each mark on the pavement
with abandon,
never to return to that moment again.

the past could not skin her a second time.

it might have looked her in the  mirror,
but the second time was seen as a rerun
and didn't quite have the shock value
it's maker wished

the walls crumble
when you no longer need the house

halt the input
and you might just notice
the Unspeakable