Sunday, August 02, 2009

In the final time
In the countdown
When the lines are read
Sentences
Look out for falling rocks

In the darkness
In the grip of fear
Did I place my feet on
Intersections
And one way streets

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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...