Wednesday, August 06, 2008

egg shells

a tough outter skin
cracked and worn

with the fatigue
brought on by responsible

nature and throughful gestures
towards underserving wonderers

marching to a proverb
of inditerminant origin

in my sleep we dance
to the emptiness left

when all the sound
is in murmurs

1 comment:

ozymandiaz said...

i used to have to walk on those