I walk inside and feel the prick
against my skin
of something unfamiliar, yet
I reach above to grab those reins
and watch them crumble in my aching hands
bleeding now
torn asunder
like this heart
and tortured mind,
try to think and press before
the impossible,
insanity ...

let us stand on the improbable
to make our case
unstoppable
we were, or so I would have liked to think
if I had a mind that made sense
or listened,
to the vices in the wind
trail around and through the voice
that lilting voice that came,
suggesting on the other side of that particular octave
I thought I heard right
but maybe not
it all turns into wet rot
chills ...

03/08/2007

Posted on 03/08/2007
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