Incoherence.

Classified by generations of achievement,
You wallow in an ego taller than most vices.

Time somersaults around your whims of indulgence.

In the dream-smudged sky of this living moment,
You dance around thick clouds of faces beckoning you:
Listen! --- the whir of life is unchaste with your future.

"Where are you going that you suck breath like mileage?"
Your aspirations are stuck in the atmosphere,
Melting in harsh light; ethereal sweat.

With a presence any stronger, we should all suffocate.

January 30th 2009
(c) Novalyn Grace RRL