Monday, August 01, 2005

Collecting

A seeker once,
pregnant with hope
alive in dreams
now
a collector
broken pieces of things that
aren't me
because I don't know truth
because I don't know who
the fuck I am
a scavenger
a dreamer of other's dreams
Sitting alone
in a dark corner
of the same old dusty cafe
with the same old music, books, life
just another face
atop a collection of bones

1 Comments:

Blogger 2e said...

"w-b Wanderer" Your words have blown across the 'net into my room and weave nets the strength of silk. I'm afraid of six legged ones. So i looked closer and found another pair and breathed a little lighter. If i leave them alone they will be silent. But they were reading me and growing in number. I invited someone that knows something about webs to see what they thought, with no response. Knowing them well i think they either fell in love with the intricate weaving of letters and words or have been bitten and though not lethal, are crippled unable to type;-)
So here on a midsummer's day with my browser open your latest words arrived with all their passion. So dark and dusty i choked, then coughed sneezed had a little water and steadied myself and said, "just do it" and i have,,, thank you Jen

10:19 AM  

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