Wednesday, December 16, 2009

Sleep still hides from me
Running as if hiding from blood hounds and men on wild horses
At times fearfully static
Unsure of its final destination
My mood sits at the bell end a taught pendulum
Swinging in hypnotic rhythmic silence
A small but steady Atumpan beats within my temple playing songs of my ancestors and the weight of their burdens
Eyes stare up at starless skies
Pollution and contamination took care of that while ago
Are you doing the same?
I guess that is something
I’ll never

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