Archive
12/22/10
Preparing
This swiftly approaching Christmas, Before it even visits me, spiritually, Has already begun to flicker into memory dust, Fade into the attic/basement Where I store away all my existence's history.
Why is it that my psyche measures its life In such anticipatory ways, Collapsing, overriding, negating, denying time? Could it be preparing its terrified spirit To declare death dead, when it beckons?
12/22/10
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