Wednesday, June 29, 2005

Lost in the dungeon. A joblike description.
I find that I'm living. In space.
Occasional contact. The echos of combat.
Ring like a contractul race.
And all of these people. Are dancing in circles.
They try to excape from. The maze.

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How do I lose myself?

I am not easily misplaced Or forgotten, Arriving as I do Before even the curtains draw And that first morning jug boils, Bleary, yes Grudgin...