Thursday 13th January 2005
by christoA start with fright
I wish I drank through the night
Now I sit immersed
in juice though I thirst
Wanton wackos slap my face
They pounce on me as I pace
Look at me! Look how I bore
Stay tuned, man. There is more
There is always more to say
with all the thoughts that stray
to regions of matters lost
of lies, of truths, of cost
A lexicon of symbols cast
shadows upon our sordid past;
with fear, I hear your voice:
“responsibility follows choice.”