Archive
01/09/09
Suspended
Nothing much escapes you, Nothing much, that is, but escape itself — A void where you've been colluding with time, your entire life.
How is it that everyone who knows you, Even those who don't, Knows what you don't: that escape is your only reason for being,
The great justification for your purblind existence, In which each awakening is a disappearance Into the cave that's warm enough to support your sleep,
Each sleep an awakening into the nowhere you've just vacated, At the far end of the same changeless day That sustains your obliviousness to the death you've been living?
Nothing much escapes you, Nothing much, that is, but escape itself, That womb in which you're suspended in inescapable darkness.
01/09/09
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