May 24, 2007

  • The Journey

    It sets in like the sundown

    Darkness, fresh air and crickets

    If only it would last

    It’s when nothing needs to get done

    It’s when I can sleep even though I don’t

    Because I don’t want tomorrow to come

    It’s the grief over not doing what I want to

    Not Proud.  Not Happy.

    This isn’t even who I am

    I am nothing, a void.

    It is emptiness.

    It is stress.

    It makes me tired, as it doesn’t let me rest.

    It’s never arriving.

    Wherever we go, there we aren’t.

    The breeze through the window can’t be felt

    Because the window is closed.

Comments (4)

  • Holy crap, I thought I'd been on Xanga for a while now, but you've been here since 2000!!!  Now I just feel like the Next Generation Xangan. Keep up the good work!

  • i bet that comment made you feel better. heh.

    man, this is somber for you. i'm used to being uplifted here. looks like you're the one needing those thermal drafts which scavengers and raptors so love to soar on, eh?

  • ryc: i dig feingold, too. but i think he does a good job of getting shit done right where he is.

  • you see Pro folks are looking up to you. hope they read some of your old essays. enjoyed your poem. hope  you find time to write again soon.

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