Tuesday, May 17, 2005


Absence Of Clarity Within Mud

The neither here nor there arises from within a muddled frame of perspective, whet with the tears of dreams faded, hopes dashed. Struggling against time and space, blood trickles down the brows of the lost prophets dashing for the finish line in one more race toward fulfillment. Another form to sign, another day given up for the sake of convenience, we trudge on dutifully to the mountain that only gets smaller the closer we get. Stained skies abound with soot and smoke from a proverb whispered on the breath of vultures in a time long forgotten, a moment forever tattooed on the skin of Man. Laughter invades the soul, embarrassment corners you in a tide of washed-out cleanliness. Reaching for air, we grab emptiness. Water drowns, and we are slipping.

Don't ask what this means. I just wrote it for the heck of it.

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