Time wasted isn’t time at all
Like alice I sleep follow and fall
Head tripping hope regripping
To self-creation of tomorrow
Lackluster in my sorrow
Of clichéd crisis and nothing deserving
For tomorrow and today
Always have my yesterday
Which I wasted and wallowed
Knowing not what I followed
Certain of nothing else than
Transience within.
Sunday, November 25, 2007
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