Friday, September 15, 2006


is this the grey
that we fought like death to keep away?
this the sleep
that muffled our dried and weary weeping?
was this the numbness
aquiescence past the tempest
the bare bleached glare
of a waxen mourning stare
shorn of hope. forlorn?
was this the prize,
worth any price,
where's the trace of this burning race?
whose steps ran through the dreary waste
and washed away at salty shores
a path that vanished in the mist
rinsing the prints that marked our chase
when unpeeled senses ached to taste
give me a bite, bite deep.
make my senses run bright, fight sleep
wake me up shake me
i'm fading from sight.
dissolving unfolding till i'm flat as the screen
when you'll never believe that we lived in that dream


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