Tuesday, January 15, 2008

we are the things of broken dreams. wrestling awake before sun rising scares away terrors of the loosed mind. released they swell and swallow us beneath their gnashing waves. alone we all call for no one. dementia patients groping for the decade-dead lovers and sons. solitary figures in splash of night's recession. single horsemen against the bloody dawn, crossing to no familiar country. time is a crueller divide than distance. fortunate madmen carry friends with them in voices. we halfway sane watch them melt to sliding memory that can't be caught. heartbreak is a thing of mornings.

only i know my own failures.

1 comment:

Lisa Reade said...

"time is a crueller divide than distance"

so true. keep at it.