October 14, 2010-- Edited December 2010
I flow through grey space
Like a t.v. screen
Like a misty dream
Grey space is grey matter. I float. I cling.
But that one thought I can't escape.
It chases me— by night, by day.
I see his furrowed, harried face--
In triumph then it merged to hate.
I tell you now-- he lost his face.
For every line just disappeared,
and was replaced by own fear.
The energy still flows through me.
But from above, and down below
is not the same as possessing.
My face, I know, It turned to stone.
No longer then, the dew did kiss--
My body formed of emptiness.
But still I stay, so in-between.
The body's gone— but still I cling.
His cast his lot,
He knew his fate.
To choose torment from me by day--
and night I lay beside him still--
wedged in between he and his wife,
for whom I used to serve, in strife.
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