the stars, the sea, and sleep.

Friday, October 22, 2010

A Factor of Four Hours

Obsessive, compulsive, regressive, comes close to
The rest of a day pad unstacked out of grasp,
Perfected nostalgia for immediate past.
Sometimes there's no time to walk through the door,
So we go on the roof and find something to land on.
You can throw me a bone to eat off the floor,
I'm still digging up ground just to have one to stand on.

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