Friday, April 9, 2010

prose 04082010

the reason to exist
escapes me sometimes.

i stumble through my clutter.

following the same unwinding ball of string.

never has yesterday felt so far away
or tomorrow so close.

nor fear so constant.

i wash the clothes
i dry the clothes
i iron the clothes
but they don’t fit.
they never did.
they never will.

someone elses
not mine.