May 22, 2005 03:19
rythymic taps from a ceramic ring
subtle vibrations across plasticene walls
and the figure eights are all sleeping soundly
drawing a diagram of where my heart will lead me
and all I really know is that I don't know anything
except that as I ramble on and on, my lines get longer
and my time to live, my time to learn and love, gets shorter
poetry,
prose,
random