get out now if you can imagine
you were a different person
this wood of your fore
arm this mortar of your hip
where dusk turns to
do not touch if you can
imagine you were else
before this blue-grey
dawn of heavy apathy
sees us linger our
felts seized at the break
if you can
imagine else you were
nothing bigger no
world outside
no effect bigger
is seized at the lapse
nothing continues without you
and does
© 2007/12 – Mark A. Douglas – All Rights Reserved
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