Volume 1, Number 4 -- November, 1996


where crossroads meet.
No hesitation,
where brakes are callously applied,
where we passively communicate,
and our garbage can coagulate.
An effortless connection,
for mindless applications.
A touchless interaction,
and lipless enunciations.
Airwave driveby,
another mental victim.
Infected with someone else's imagination.

I Must Be Crazy

I must be crazy.
Yet my words can not articulate,
how far I fell when I woke up this morning.
How my fingers sweat on the steering wheel,
how my eyes blur at the thought of you.
I must be crazy.
When I drink myself to sleep,
and my mind unable to focus,
drifts into depression.
I must be crazy.
When I gaze into the rearview mirror,
and all I trail is anger,
and I all feel is shame.

Holding Court

Makes my hands shake violently.
Draws blood into my cheeks,
spite onto my tongue.
Starving for affection,
Entails interjection and feigned perception.
Lost in mazes of lines with no meaning.
Source of debate,
center of attention,
Arrogance envelopes,
Chasm of idea,
void of wisdom.

Copyright held by:
Kilgore Web

[an error occurred while processing this directive]