Thursday, August 21, 2003

Did it make sense?
Or did it get unmade in the making?
Did I ruin it?
Or was it teleologically ruined?
Is it the age of reason or the realm of probability?
This had better seem real soon enough.
If only you could see me now.
Stretched on black metal on a nameless road, watching the cars pass by.
You would ask who I was.
You would.
Because I do.
All the time.