LAND OF THE DEAD
Come to the infinity
of my soul
It will continue
for evermore
It is old.
In six days
a half of century
will
capture me.
A number in space and time
still alive.
Love calling at me martyr, out of control
depression blamed on weakness,
As a character flaw.
Stupid man nurse
disease, burnout,
chemical imbalance
Walked a tightrope on eggshells
for too long.
The land of the dead beckons
over amp of
adrenaline to cease.
You live there now
justified for all hurt
can pretend nonentity.
A speck of nothing
won't catch me.
Particle,
breeze on
to your mausoleum.
3/5/2006 cj
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