Sunday, May 11, 2008

Pulled in by a lighthouse.

So strange, an off kilter hero
A contraption, a thinker, a do-er

A mess of accessable thoughts
A web that I won't nor want to escape from

Your a stranger, saying the right things
But thinking nothing of what you say

Pouring out your thoughts
Not realizing their mine

Living on canvas and lights and liquids
Thriving on the new and the old.

Yet how far or close you may be
Your still to far, to far to see.

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