April 02, 2006
holding cell
Im not sure
if this house is made
of cards
or of glass
but either way
the structure is not quite
sound
the calendar is filled
with repeats
and only the wind
passes through
with any sort of
purpose
rapping on keys
and losing myself in
the flashing lights
of Interville
the days leave no
markings
upon my impression
they look embarrassed
to be here
I know the feeling
from one extreme
to the other
is my calling card
but perhaps I should
have the number disconnected
or find a longer bridge
to place between the segue
from flight
to collapse
Posted by Drexler at 01:13 PM