Wednesday, April 27, 2005

Dead to Me

It seems so dead, with grief at night I still walk
Down nameless streets familiar to my feet
As crowded; though detachment is complete,
They know me well. Friends? No, we don't talk.
While shoeless, hopeless, wordless, I stalk
My memories of grass returned as concrete,
With dry mouthfuls of once red, now brown meat;
Most faces stay vacant as they turn to gawk.
My youth crawled down my throat, that's where it died
As teen years passed; I waited for today
With my infant verses concealed inside.
In time, things changed: I give my thoughts away
With forlorn hope that verses will provide
This line, though dead, a place for thoughts to stay.

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