go back to bed at least
and stay in it; it is a
sanctuary for feelings
fleeing consequence
each day begins a
vacancy that’s never filled
no applicants compete
for empty space
your doubt is spread on
wings which will inflate
the disbelief – as if it
always rightly is this way
you watch a petty thief
of time implicitly through
eyes deceived; complicity
conceives your plastic fate
© 18 January 2010, I. D. Carswell
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