Sunday, May 22, 2005


5355 in the 745
a voice materialized
a white drink dribbles out
shellfish they shall claim it is
a concoction of oceanic vomit
feet pace the hollow ground
walking the many, repetitive miles
anticipation erased the smiles
trying to build the strength inside
trying so hard not to run and hide
the ever looming radiation
the answer to my question
awaiting on the third last breath
underneath the ring i shall again pass
a soon as the time came closer
it was all painless and over
and i now shall leave with a sigh of relief
as i await for the interpretation of this dream

© 2004 thomas bates

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