Dealt a good laying foot

To walk with, on a feeling road
yours if handled well and I
nearly drove across without looking,
where was I off to? I don’t speak
to you well, or myself if you
are close again on my sheet
of foil and burning to pupate
I borrow some wind and blow you out.

Now nearly driven good things
warrant me sane, once more,
off to consume the numbers dumb
until threads of me grow again
from where I walked and where people play
their numbers quickly else they fade
into moss growing from the looking shade.
All too humble to undress and lay.

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~ by Jeremy on December 27, 2009.

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