trampled but running reckless
it's only empty when you stop
screaming and there is no longer
reason conscience sleeps
beaten down slowly melting away
and his name does not fit around
fingers dirtied and destructive
reaching with cold filth
for an extra dose of real

yesterday is over and tomorrow
never pretends to look any better
but i guess thats atleast something
instead of nothing at all.

01/27/2002

Posted on 01/27/2002
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