on the shelf

on the shelf

to live like a rag doll
tossed along days,
drowning in disposable dreams, and
fearing death who visits constantly like a friend
lovingly indelible in living memory.

Live! and die, alone; unknowing,
awaiting the supple touch of skin on loveless plastic.

I am as much rag as I am doll.

toyed by emotions and hollow-- where words
don’t fit and melt into eyes
that shine like mirrors--
shallow and reflective,
where you see nothing but yourselves.

I await an end that I do not want to meet,
a leap of faith into nothing but faith itself,
I fear death--
to leave my thoughts like a book

never to be read again.

--Imran July '07