I lay in bed, too many thoughts to decipher, the brain a buzz, a hum, where to begin?

Hand upon heart, it  beats, pumps, the pressure of veins pushing blood, it soothes. Head back, eyes closed, I listen. And it beats. The rain on the window. The temples on my face. Blood in a hurry. And the train screams in the distance, a howl that echoes as it flees. No time to savor in this place, everything has somewhere to be.

…everything has somewhere to be…

This entry was published on September 26, 2008 at 2:49 am. It’s filed under Uncategorized and tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink. Follow any comments here with the RSS feed for this post.

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