March 28, 2001

• thoughts churned out too early in the morning for my own good

  
  

  people scrambling by

  
  

  like eggs rolling down the hill. I

  
  

  can't seem to see how it is that

  
  

  the minutes rush past, not like a bat

  
  

  winging it in the clear night sky,

  
  

  but it is important to me. My

  
  

  sense of time goes spiralling away,

  
  

  all awry otherwise, all day

  
  

  without the sense of someone,

  
  

  close and nearby.

  • 2:45 am
  • 3 Comments