windswept

one wimpering words of comfort, sometimes
the way i know you is the way one knows
god: illusory and then one way
holographic like magic undone shoelaces and we spend
so much time dancing slow around the misery
of everything that could have, did,
or might have happened:

now we are only a series of possibilities.

2004-06-23 | 6:23 p.m.
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