excitement
take your flight
for you bound me too
making of my gypsied heart
a wispy winter bird
stumbling back into north
with nary even
the vaguest concern
finger fulls of preoccupied spite
haunt praise
down a poorly lit street
wicked has taken on a new change
a lust most lonely
hides beneath her dusty flapping
wings
a skewed kaleidoscope
slivers of an altered eye
see no real vestige of any real
truth
sipping depression
the choicest cocktail
of long since separated lovers
as the poet in me cries out her words
of such so called talent
for when love
misrepresents itself
its all pointless hooey ...........\
(written Dec 11, 2001 315am)