continously inhabit....me
With persistent and fervent intensity of strength
Devoid of reprieve....intent to torment....
They return...and in torpid turns
Assault with ease this turbulent mind
We live on they cry....and you'll never
be so high
All we were....where we where
Tiny gardens....
Old homes and shadows of what was known
yet, I know perhaps...these figments of a now deceased reality....
seem so real.....to...me
what purpose...or evil malcicious intent
all to lament....or?
With sisyphean ways.....and interminable relays
I live amid their casting distant dancing images
Cognizant of now......but only as another series
of plays and days in tune....to soon become once more
places I used to know....