Friday, March 30, 2012

no capitals

am helpless without the written word
reading, writing
watching it unfold on the screen

the screen
where my heart unfolds to rapturous strains

there is no little conceit wrought in words of
our own choosing

the delicacy of our past perfection
those flawless memories
like cats sneaking on our bed

the rest is mere folly
so long as we subscribe to no false notions
nor pander to our own lies

about ourself

yesterday is here
tomorrow has been pushed back

so cry
you want

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