thoughts splitting into seams
that thread into other seams,
never quite meeting each other.
torn into useless rags
time blends
as days go on,
blank walls
fill themselves with projected visions
of things best kept
dead.
i may never get myself back
washing down mindless entries
with pale beads of hope,
begging pin pricks
to feel
anything
but the needle never penetrates
where I need it.
never stabs out,
never overshadows,
what is going on
inside the unjoined fabric
that is
life.
�2005, A.M. Reed.
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