parallel
fleeting and seeing
a dance meant for nobody, only
me and the selfless
irony of being here and then
there

these breaks in thought tell me nothing important

those hateful words that want
me to fail, to fall and sleep eternally
from the truthful emotions that
i only know, i think
belief, is the issue

i don't stand for this,
blood and hate and
confusion, who lies (be)for(e) or
(again)st me

who anymore but this?

07/17/2006

Posted on 07/18/2006
Copyright © 2025 Corey Lockaby