Friday, February 27, 2009

Sick

He waits upon the quilted covers
Clutched so close like tangled lovers
Breathing filled but not with breath
Snot in head and phlegm in chest
He rides upon the tides of night
Awaking to the sound of light

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After a busy day when confronting admin

 We must all come  Find ourselves And we will all be found Regardless  As the sun finds the morning As breath finds the lungs As I am found ...