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Circulatory Motion Directed to my Cranium
April 14, 2010
I wilt my harboring solitude
It reaps passing coursers
Searching for prey
Wipe my mind of all discretions
In this state I’ve seen it all
I bear no resentment
Floodgates and symphonies
Cloud my spectrum
They are always the same
All these things make me sorry
I see your smile
Trying to grasp nothing
I say what I don’t mean
I do what I don’t mean
Excuses
Excuses
Spinning down the rusted pipe to nothing
© Michael R., Cambridge, MA
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