Thursday, July 17, 2014


Trapped in the place where I know not time,
locked up in this space of no reason or rhyme...

Walking this taut rope thinner than a line,
hanging on a slope hinging on margins too fine...

Love is moving too fast, scattering about her bounty
behind I trail in a sleeping past, forlorn in lost county...

Inside of this bubble where paths are the same,
blockaded by rubble and boulevards resonating one name...

Where layeth end when these eyes have not sight!?
how do I tell that bend turns left or right!?

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