the stars, the sea, and sleep.

Friday, August 20, 2010


My conscience hid under the sheets
As I slept through the emergencies,
Already convinced that I left
And that they wouldn't let me up.
I awoke in smoke for a refund
And was given change in the past tense.
The powerhouse is a vandal
Like the hibiscus scented candles
With the strength of sins on Christmas Day.
These are a few of the things in my name,
Etched in the bark of an old nameless tree
As timeless as the cold frameless sea.

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