April 18, 2002

  • Reality
    -Zane T. Dark 4/18/2002

    I listen to what you
    Want me to hear
    Transparent globes of
    Sentences, nested one
    Inside the next
    Each turning on
    It’s own axis of reality
    I patiently wait
    For them to line up
    Straining my eyes
    To make out the
    Continents of truth
    But I grow weary
    Unable to blink
    Fixed on your words
    I miss your eyes

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