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mortar

by Corey Lockaby

as i wait sitting and
it grows longer, time and worries alike

lines in the wood and lines in the cement and
hey lines right to show you where to park
sweet acidic stinging as it rushes down your throat

a curious distorted sound made only by the slow
sweeping bass of a ticking clock
warbling bells at hours except, it's a death noise
with only that as an aside to macabre joy

so i need and i wait and i know because
a brick wall is to strength as ? is to ?

what is it that i need
i am?

01/11/2006

Posted on 01/12/2006
Copyright © 2025 Corey Lockaby

Member Comments on this Poem
Posted by Tom Goss on 01/12/06 at 07:47 PM

Interesting and sincere questions.

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