the stars, the sea, and sleep.

Tuesday, September 1, 2009


An onslaught of zeros
Reminds me that there is
No hero
To this story,
Because there is no story.
I reach into these pockets
To find a proper allegory,
A category drowned
In the glory of victorious,
Of lonely neuron
Chasing neuron
With something pure on
Vast azure.
Turning blue,
I stay true...
So I reach into these sockets
To find something that's shocking to me.
I jostle the urge of disabled nerve,
Yet all cannot have,
And none I deserve.

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