the stars, the sea, and sleep.

Tuesday, December 9, 2008

Wanted

Tripping on my laces
Falling through time and space,
Chalk lines dictate a change in state.
Eighteenth out of fifty and then back again
I pucker up my parched lips,
Deflate my lungs and let go:
"I really wish I did... but I just don't know."
The gavel drops and the prosecution stops...
Case closed,
Court dismissed.

1 comment:

The Captain said...
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