Transient Universe
<< 12:44 p.m. - Tuesday, Feb. 10, 2004 >>
This room is bound with books,
and I don�t care.
Constancy is what lures me
with curved and wronged hook.
Lip stuck.
Red is in the water.
The sharks may circle
and I don�t care again.

Books may tell the tales of the ones who matter,
the ones who lead tumultuous lives,
the ones we shake our heads at �
in whatever way you want to.
In the end everyone is a tale of nothing.
Inconsistency shadows my doorway.
Kicks dust in my eyes.

Still. Be still.
My heart made my head spin.

Your voice is echoing,
�Not fair.�
I never had aspirations to be an angel.
My fate as an atom,
is an overcast universe.
What do I care?

We shouldn�t be excerpts.
We shouldn�t be so ephemeral.
We are.
It isn�t fair.