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Date Posted: 01:18:24 09/05/01 Wed
Author: sober
Subject: lacking balance still.


Another unprocessed conversation
lacking all the elements that invited you to me.
I refer to your absence sometimes,
leaving me with a hollow hand
that falls
open shut.

A government monopoly of a talented face,
with instructions to ignore reluctance.
Now it's my turn to dress you up.

I watch you, watch yourself,
walk by.
And I don't think it's confidence that strenghtens your step.

I heard the conversation,
y'know,
the one I wasn't supposed to hear,
and I must say you sound bitter in the morning.
Until you hugged.

They had a whole movement pertaining to this in the 20s.
It's called surreal.
But I'm left only with the real...
yet I'm happy with MY real.

I hate how we never clash.

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