Monday, January 22, 2007

Sleepless

Couldn't feel the fibre,

Alone with distant sound.

Where to does one fly,

When all is lost or gone .

Dreams of better times,

No longer allowed to sooth.

Rough and ready cowboys,

A ranch with a kangaroo.

Whip yourself together,

Or get off the rhetoric plot.

This place has been overrun,

An idealic hope it's not.

Spare me your spite.

This is real life.

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