Wednesday, June 15, 2011


This is the day I stop thinking little.  No more poems about things I don’t feel.  My skin is in havoc.  There are no butterflies around here, or cherry blossoms.  Time is the juxtaposition, and I can no longer run up a flight of stairs.  The lack of human touch is like burning in a lake of fire.  Consumed with pain you don’t have the courage to end the slow disappearance of strength.  So, you die more than you live.  You are not sure you are pleased with the things you’ve done.  There is regret, remorse, and a little fear.  But whatever happens, when the time comes you will go loveless and unmissed.

Mount Fuji snow… 
I wake up thinking 
about tomorrow

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