Thursday, March 13, 2008

the last stand of the desperate

titles that were never meant to be

Can I just stand
and look upon
thy beauty?

(I promise not to say a word) Really!

Weak knees and broken ankles

Stalking, walking, talking (to myself)

Tears inside the eyeballs of tomorrow (always just a day away)

Harmonica wailing in the background
(no it's not my heart,
it's my soul).

Losing grip, things begin to slip

I know what it's like now
to fall
to slip
to give it up.
I know and I don't want to stop
not yet.

Being bad and not getting caught? Can I do it again?

Just passing...
...you by....
as we glance into
....the other's eyes...
just for a moment...
wondering,
"Where did that...
come from?"

Pretending

Leaving

Slap your own forehead,
mine's constantly taken
care of

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