the stars, the sea, and sleep.

Tuesday, August 24, 2010


Fresh faces, labeled pages...
They were immortalized in a social medium,
So far from the moderation it needed.
Every name, a unique key in the shape of a pen
And its bold strokes cloaked what was then.
Faces turned red from the pressure,
Unmeasured perception of digital depth
Of plastic pressed against the skin too tightly.
It's not of the image made,
The blood now wanders free.
It's not of what you are sure,
It is all that you might be.

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