Tuesday, March 2, 2010


Houses not homes

Securing a future no one wants

It all moves along

With the click of a pen.

Signing off on life

To prepare for an inevitable death

No insurance policy

Can ever cover

That which dies before it dies.

Swimming against a tide

That forever crashes us back on the rocks

Wearied of love

When love is not enough.

Flooding the senses with song

And nicotine

Swirling ashes

Of the funeral pyre.

We're dead already


And returned to the earth

From which we came.

There in the clay


We will take our rest

Hand in hand

Eye to eye

In the eternal dust.

tall penguin

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