Wednesday, May 18, 2005

Stepped Through the Fire for You.

Time ravages the homeless sleeper
Beneath his halls of discards
With his friends the rats and creepers
Bejewling his humble abode

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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...