Turning inwards
By ecologist
I sit here... turning inwards losing my self with each beat...pulse of music, my heart the same...I feel my skull insubstantial surreal...fingers turn to water..pass through me I sink into... through the table pooling on the floor quicksilver...liquid gold, passing between your fingers disappearing with each beat, pulse of music...my heart Written January 16th, 2002 © on Jan 15 2002 10:26 PM PST 0 • 10
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"I sit here......"