I am marked by whatever passing scrape

I grow quiet on my post

seeing the dreams that form some escape

first preparations for a ghost

scratching away 'til the skull is shredded

I have been taught my pace

and blur myself on the edge of the scene

an onlooker out of his place

I bear my fix like an edgy peace

the still moment imminent but unarriving

when I will lift and deep breathings cease

while here remains will ever drop from striving

I am not free I am wide awake

and I feel along some passage to find the way I did not take...

Content (c) 2008-2012 Philip Milito.