Tuesday, October 14, 2003

   Indeed
Alas and alas. I feel like sticking my poetry on here, for lack of anything else. So here is a poem, at yet untitled. But there shall be more. Here it is, please take the time to read it:



As time goes by, I find the purpose of living ever harder to find.
perhaps you can tell by the ticking of the broken clock, but for me......for me it takes........much much more.
perhaps to tatto the pale glistening of the languid sky upon the oozing skin of night, perhaps to convulse in silence, deafening and thundering, roaring as a thousand bones, alone among the human detritus
perhaps that would be enough, but......but all I can do is wait.
and listen to the ticking of the broken clock, its hands unmoving among the dripping of water and the creeping mold, and drown in drink and never be lost again in the silence of the unending twilight...
and all the dust is blowing
and the salloon doors are swinging, but I cant hear it anymore.
not anymore.
and out there....somewhere.....someones started a fire.
and its throwing back its head and howling pleasure to the moon as the drink-sodden old men dance out a pathetic life in the gathering gloom
to the jangling of the banjo
nd the hissing of steam, and the ticking of a broken clock
but eventually
they all know they'll just toss it into the fire......because they have to keep it going...
and none of them know why.....but its in their blood, somewhere under the alcohol and the mud and the blackness is a bit of old instinct.
and the dust is out there blowing like the noontime call.....but I'm falling into the black reflection of eventide
and the firelight is reflected in the cup in my hands
and the blood is oozing along the wall with the vomit of those who sat here before
but I know that i'll be here longer then they ever were
sitting in my twilight
eyes blind from the dust of yesterday.....but its all really only tommorow anymore.
just tommorow.
sitting in the gloom drinking to the rhythm of a broken clock......and I'm the only one who can hear it.......







and there it went. not as if it is over, of course, but there shall be more. Messy business, overlapping.