Listless time,
caught in the molasses
of unchanging minutes.
Thrashing, dying,
trying to get out,
Alive.
So to wash
The dirt and grime,
off the linen of today.
And arrive,
At your doorstep
to hang another day,
by your clothesline.
Just as the sun rises,
to singe everything in its wake.
29/4/02
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