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something fails inside
we drift instead of soar
no instructions help
we are broken
fragments grind within
causing us delusion
a haze without a drug
a fullness without point

we can not know from placement
only in recall
the echoes are so faint now
that we become more lost
chasing down the corridors
the faintest drifting ring
hard from walls returned
as if to lead

now forgetting is
now declining comes
we walk into the pattern
meant for other days
exploding in the strain
which pulls behind the eyes
and makes us stare out sharper
as to disconnect the world

we divide ourselves
and set out in a fan
hoping some survival
will enter in the game
the watchers all hold bets
against our coming out
we secretly hold keys
to shift the final side

something drops away
leaving nothing
shaped so like the past
that bears its shadow
we search for other clues
but find they're yet to write
even from our pens
in reference returned

               - Brendan Tripp

Copyright 1994 by Brendan Tripp