Thursday, May 13, 2010

Float like silver pain on the bullet of the night.
Sting like a cure that hides its punch beneath a skin of sugar.
Run with the wind dangling between your fingertips
Silken streamers slide through the cough of autumn
A slumbery sun clears its throat
Stumbling back to bed with the freezer door left
Ever-so-noticeably ajar.

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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 ...