My Beacon. 29 November 2002.

I thought of you this morning
I wonder where you slept
I’m lost without my beacon

when we walked down the street
we talked of the usual things -
we fought through the usual bullshit.

I wondered how we survive
without knowing the reason why
and need some rest

it was cold in our autumn
why we always return to the cruelty
that we cling to in our lives

we lost sight of what’s important
we lost faith in the human race
I began to hope that we’ll be saved
by the mothership from outer space

home | reviews | rants | poems | writings | trivia | news | links | about mark

© copyright Mark Reed, 1991-2002 except where indicated