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all really is folly

An unnumbered show of the sun

agrees with somebody elses watched clock

the escaping clock continues to waste.

shrugging my bloody bloodless life away-

oh to be him in that passing luxurious car!

 

instead of being swarmed by shit memories-

my dead Aladdins cave of laughable nothingness

except stimulated laughs

except my kid days

of being the rag arsed evader of my Fathers midnight calls

too busily scoring goals under the street light.

 

BASTARD! that I can,t close the distance between them

in reality.

oh that then golden concern  for nothing!

when 'stooping age' were future words

waiting to uncoil, waiting to hissingly accompany me on the road to death.

 

this strange will of returning I keep?

this groping for youth,

from behind this sullen grey wall

crying as I write

waiting

waiting

for change.

◄ winters walk

oh yeah! ►

Comments

Antonionioni

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Sun 23rd Jan 2011 13:48

I like this one Stefan - nice and honest!

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