Monday, May 7, 2007

One of those

I am lost in this will. I have lost your cool wells. Where now the waters will run through, and out face, to commemorate your curvatures, to drown in white lace. We are raceless commodities, we are boundless fortunes. We are inked in our imperfections and this unity we hold makes at one.

I can still taste, see, hear, you. It’s unfortunate sometimes, this memory of mine. Holds little of numerical value yet spans in images of never ceasing loop stations.

Unfortunate, my vast for the first person past. Like lobsters to the cage I am sea bound and tangled. I sit here, little doings with logic, wondering in places serving me no intrinsic value or commerce. It is surprising that even in that now – I am still bound to your body.