Written in stone

As my soul seeks to read my passage I write in tears so that my word my be sealed in stone, and the truth I write my one day be read by the seeker of my being,

By all that is, I am uninspired by my shallow self, an I have nothing of value to offer but the blood that flows in my veins, and I read my pages alone,

With my mind and soul adrift I become a creature of habit, a ghost that blush, and the vanity in it all is my inner laugh to myself,

I walk to a bassinet that is empty of this bastard’s mirrored image, with broken lullabies and nursery rhymes, that make me wonder, for cradle hug, and a mothers kiss, as I lay on no ones breast,

Contempt pushes me to boast, an a urgent need woos me,

With sympathy I pat myself on the back, in order to comfort the weeping cries of this man, as I lay in a decayed caucus of what is to be,

An a symbol that reads my name is hidden by my soul seeker,


And this book I rewrite over and over again, brings me no peace of mind,

The diary of

12-01-2004

page one