Darkness is soon gone home. No phone.
No more discussion, no time for
Daily impressions imprinted in the sand
Washed away by the same hand.
Collect crabs like meals for scabs.
Peel them off and put them away.
Saved for later days and meager meals.
Skinny jeans by means of skinny legs
And taller heads so strong, so
Tell me I am wrong, tell me what you
THINK you know. Ask me again and
I'll do the same. Here it repeats keystrokes
And keynotes. Play the bass play
The hum and sing it aloud.
You make my ears bleed and ring at
The mere sight. Oh
Did I say sight? Right?
I mean saw.
For what is old is new and new is gone.
For longer I wonder out yonder
And try to clip and glimpse the same.
No further blame, further from the truth.
No longer long for new.
I boiled it down and made stew.
Stainshane
Tuesday, January 20, 2009
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