Wednesday, February 1, 2017

from p.4 on Mon., Jan. 30th

I'm nowhere.

Words lost on
pages, tears scattered
everywhere as my
thoughts run
rapid,
caressing
the binding
of a
now
finished
story.



-----



Becoming one with
the clouds &
sliding with style.



-----



The sound the
alarm clock makes

...

(as in silence)

because there is
no need to set it.



-----



Sunlight drifts through
vertical rivers of cotton.

Swaddled in down and
polyester, drifting
between harsh reality
and the warm cushion
of unconsiousness.

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