Monday, December 13, 2010

The Corridor

...Then what must I do to impress you?


The unattainable jewel representing

a frustrating quest,

aggressively cresting
down a narrow hallway
with blinders on, dwelling
on your tales,

are wet squirming interludes

the only things that possess

your seesaw attitudes?


Fear begins to accumulate altitude,

an airborne scimitar at a vicious

vantage point swings like a curious

cat tail, am I the impaler or the impaled?

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