Thursday, January 20, 2005

Could be the worst day ever!

Thinking Too Much

A throwaway this morning,
a dark shake of the earth around me.
It is a dead night nearly done,
and he wind whispers the names
of all the drowned against the windows,
with the whole sea atomised and airborne.

Love has no place outside,
will all those dead eyes
and sleeping trees
but is warm with sleep
and fog of troubled nights,
the dreams of children

left behind by arguments
that made you miss the shouts
so they have to take you out.
You feel for faceless shadows,
the dusky darkness of the tyranny,
that fed you, had you calm.

They show us some bad men,
the black and white of lists,
a retreat into technology
and all the comfort of their figures.
Here's a figure for you.
Zero!



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