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Destiny Rain
tapping against my window like the long
fingernails of a gypsy woman
who, with little sorrow,
tells me that I will die before tomorrow. Fate
is a cruel woman who hates me dearly,
playing with my life to see
if I’ll survive
like kids who try
to cut off tails of lizards
to see if they’ll grow back. In the fog, you’re like an
illusion; I know you’re there, but I can’t
see you. Dreams are elusive, impossible to
see, to hold, to conform to what you want
them to be.
You
say you dream of me. And the sun struggles to burn the suffocating haze and return to its original glory, find its will
to fight after the cold dark of night. 10/11/02;10/23/02;10/24/02
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