Sunday, July 19, 2009

sometimes what I just did or said resonates
in the taxis, at night, at quiet
for days they hit me to shatter
echoing to disrupts conscience
like having head on my sleeves
and heart on almost everything my eyes lay upon
what I said replayed
to crumble each of my cell and ceillings
past tenses intercept my present
and I m helpless at my vicarious thoughts
opening and closing itself in error
to be read like dogs' wag
or to indifferently puzzled as pretensions
displaying abrasioned self by waves of jibberish from other selves
all the tense and intensified hunger
thrusting ambitions without will
unpredictable illusion of control
wakeful to the obvious blindness
there is no epiphany
this is me
with a proud and awkward swagger