5-2-93 Remind.

What an excellent day it was.  Some wonderful scenes and feelings. Meetings, the rendezvous of short dance, long glance, and quick chance. And don't forget the Turk, don't forget to tell everyone that he isn't going to kill anyone.  Don't forget the Wesser among men.  Don't forget the music or the courage or the fortitude.  Don't forget who you now may be.  Don't give it away.  See her tomorrow.

           After the bastion of hope had fallen,
           the cats began their high caterwaulin',
           and little Johnny returned home.
           When the sun again showed its face,
           it gave form to a misty place,
           amongst which someone lay alone.
           Don't forget the words, the air,
           or the pretty dance caller so fair,
           and always give in to that hypnotic drone,
                      of time escaping.

That's the word of the wize, bring it here.

5-1-2-93 Eclipt.

Don't fret about the trade, oh terror, being fleshed with a dominant pain. God, beautiful.  God, amazing.  Like music, I want to study, to know what it is that makes her so attractive.  Now I'm on the run, no hopes barred.  Help continue the idea of free dreams for the less, less, loess, and don't forget,
                                           

                 Bastion of heralds of time,
             don't hope for less than

4-28-93 The Archer of Nind.

Blurb.  Speak now, or forever holder cease.  This doesn't seem to be working too well.  Hmmm.  Let me see.  Questions, questions.  Damn, it seems like I have to waste a lot of time in waiting out the answers.  Someday the time will be all gone, and the questions long forgotten, and the answers long since devoured and ingested.  What's to be said in that end?  We tried?  Did we try rightly?  Where's the best path?  Will we ever know it?  Will we even know if it's been missed?

         A certain someone dropped by today,
         Now, please, don't ask me to give it away,
         They shared with me a secret phrase,
         that sent my soaked brain into an iron maze,
         and upon emerging, I found that gaze,
         that had sent me.  And now these days,
         I wait for what I've been allowed to,
         shared moments of warmth and desires true.

In the end, it all worked out different than when I first plunged and recoiled at the shadowed depths.

4-27-93 Afternoon.

I wish that none of it was real.  To awake and find it merely one, big internal mistake would be just fine.  The rope's end comes ever closer.  I feel like nothing, that I could kick back, and never feel the effects of my drop out.  I wish again, and my words don't cut it.  I mean, I really want this, this end, oblivion, rest, relaxation.  I've got to stop drinking, that's for taken.  Maybe it's the only way.  "Stretching out" whenever I can is not the best idea.  A little control, maybe more solace.  The people, they mislead me.  They tell me things that only confuse or involve me in realms I can't know.  Run away, Run away.  Bang.  Gun through the window.  What an end.

    Have yourself a merry little prance,
         about the eucalyptus and gyrate,
           past the shimmering pants,
         and don't forget to ask about my rate.

I want to crawl back in that bed/oblivion!!!!

4-25-93 Taste of the Awful.

Big dragon number one, bagged and tagged.  The lesser creatures crouch in the hollows of darkness and distance.  They pretend that the days aren't passing nearly as fast as I know them to be.  What would I say? one day, when long after my card's been played, and someone comes to me to ask why?  I'll stumble and fall for there is no reason in back thought, only the present.  I'm a hollow soul when I existed, as I exist, the world lives inside me.  Heaven and earth, matter and                          void.

     Frowning sweetly to himself,
     another torrent outside the small,
     oval window above that shelf,
     that held a flower so tall,
     that its stem perspired as it tried,
     to hold up what it can't hope,
     to really do, so it died.
     He grabbed again for the dope.

Don't ever forget that you don't know until you know it all.  You can't know it all.  Some try.

4-23-93 In the reflection lies a dream.

There happened to be a happy time, when some hopes were buried in contentment.  You couldn't even estimate the boundaries, they stretched far beyond those cast glances.  Every time the same thing turned over, a less close happening began to charge out the gates of today.  Don't forget who wants to say what.  The way they speak has nothing to do with their reality. Pause.

Comfort comes from hands, yet is not merely hand-made.  Handmaid. Methodological.

    Above the summit, the clouds held,
    a small denogration of a whispy meld,
    beneath which swarmed a crowd,
    hovering near brinkish, though constantly loud.
    The evening was far away,
    the sun reigned high,
    Amongst the peaks do play,
    and come forth to greet the sky.
                                          This guy.

4-22-93 Posh Dream.

Extreme again run my thoughts, one single path towards terror, unlike the real or any those hopes that care.  So long, small hopes, we're on the road to nonsdale, where anyone can be no one.  Take a pleasure wherever it may hide.  I need a drink.  Help.

    Toons of palace dreamt,
      Unlike breaths of darkest intent!
    Hop hope among tools of,
      motivations and cranes, dove,
      breaker, begot, best,
              tomorrow, Hide
            Hide, hide,

Amongst stalling, tempests tall, falling squat, teerror reset.