Saturday, March 12, 2011

It is what it isn't

Trying to get out of an empty ocean
feverishly clawing at walls of sand and fish bone
Gashes in my hands clot with salty gains
The fire in my flesh does not stop me

yet I get nowhere

The dim turns dark
The dark turns light
The light turns bright
Humor escapes for an escape
as a twisted joke

The lights burst, glass flies
Screaming hoards of drunken men
brawling for reasons unknown

I'm pushed to a place
Unable to reach
As my children are mutilated
by the untamable crowd

And still I can not weep
Forward is all I know

yet I get nowhere.

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