Thursday, November 25, 2010

Worm Holes

Traversing on the edges
along the streams of consciousness
wishing to splinter apart
like brittle ancient bones
of the mind

These shards of memory
fallen into disarray
in the shadows of
lost love

caressed by the hand of fate
cold and bereft of pity
left behind to curse
the ones once cared for
blessed by what once was

alone in the jagged valley
wasting time in spades
at the tables of the unknown
drinks on the house
pouring from the heart

scanning the glass horizon
for a pathway out from the dark
it became clear
there is no way out
but for the way upwards
a loathe outcome indeed

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