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May 02, 2005
hyaline
it was at this point:
tantalized by streaks of light,
Dylan speaking sense,
that my bandwidth collapsed
indefinitely
I've seen this face in the mirror
far too often
scuttling around with a broken back
looking for that final straw
so that I may make amends
with my maker
so that I may make love
to a blurred notion
and chamomile textures
there are no more nations
to conquer blindly
or request with a straight face
Every color of the rainbow
has been charted and mathematically solved
that photo I never took;
worn smooth and shallow
by the crease where the watermark lies
That can only mean
that my thoughts linger on past endeavors
where some kind of imagined glory lies bloated
sharing with me a dog-eared grin
and a port of call, or maybe it was a bottle of port
a sense of accomplishment
for accomplishing little other
than dropping the ball
What does the world have to offer me
to keep my interest
before I insult the wrong person
with cloak and dagger tactics in mind
27 years has been long enough
to realize everything else is just a re-run
or a repackaging of some previous flame I nurtured
into smoke and darkness
Posted by Drexler at May 2, 2005 06:41 PM