~ staying afloat, a day at a time ~

Tuesday, April 17, 2012

neat lines

i cannot be sure anymore
of where it began and where it may have ended
or not
somehow the words can never tally up
stand in a neat line and have a full stop
you have to say something
you have to end it
but you will not be able to end my sentences
probably that is why
everything stands in disarray
but when was it ever compartmentalized?
when did we draw lines and suggest whose shelf was whose
and what we stacked where
you are indeed of a strange breed
and i do not say this about your parentage
pardon me
come and dream my lovely
how come you stand under the arc again?
where will you be when the earth will move unwittingly
i have no ideas
no passions
and no past glories to live on
and on some days no possessions to live off
no morals to go by
everything is marked in the sand
the river washes dreams away
but you know this
yet you dream
and share your everyday hallucinations
i cannot heal you
my hands are coarse
so lets breathe
lets make amends

but walk in different directions
we are not of the same breed.
not you. not me.

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