DEAD WRECKONING AGAIN

Here it comes again,
that dead wreckoning
falling on me as i walk
beneath the industrial sky.

Maybe this grayness will pass,
or maybe the wind will carry
tattered shreds and pieces of me
away to nothing.

Maybe innocence and wonder and
passsion will return,
maybe i can regain what was lost
on my way to now.

Maybe i will feel again.

i doubt it.

Inside me it is hollow as a mausoleum,
i feel nothing, i can do nothing,
i am becoming nothing,
as thin as the air.

Dreams don't come when you are this weary.

Man, you should have known me
when i was alive.

September 2, 1995