there are some nights when my left shoulder feels painfully empty. my left arm won't just fall asleep by itself. where will i get the tingles of a dead hand awakening now? where will i find such plain proof of blood flow? sometimes i wonder if those nights of half-sleep energized me more than any amount of r.e.m. now i can only visit in my dreams. haunted slumber. and, sometimes, when the night's light comes through the window at just the right angle, i can feel the weight of a phantom body on my lonely limb. then the white noise of the fan blows it all away.
and i realize where i am.
and when it is.
and my empty shoulder calls out in that unmistakable, deafening sound of silence.
and there i wait.
the most prime of odd numbers.

posted by adam @ 12:02 AM