the stars, the sea, and sleep.

Thursday, May 13, 2010

Don't Play This Game

A brief dream made at the angle of disbelief
Was a late moment in the sun,
Reflecting on an undone moment
Like the laces that tie my consciousness together.
One word to lock joints
Turn backwards, feel adjoined.
Call me a thief for the briefest moment passed,
Harassing morality with what we reach,
Entwined, aligning the wrinkles in clasping.
I grasp for the Polaroid dream, now fresh
Yet archaic; it will stay in my linty pocket,
The memory gently impressed.

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