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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required I feel like a lot of the time...most of the time now. Like there's nothing to be done. Not nothing for you. Or for her. (Maybe for her) But for the key. A key for the hands that turn. (But they turn in on themselves.) Something to further an ends to a means. And they (or was it I?) proceed to drop the key by the wayside. And like a sudden ferocious gale. Sweeping, swooshing, sloshing, turning. Straight thorough the heart. (A tunnel never with an end in sight.) I...Well.. I can feel it in mine too. And up above. Or maybe up above. (But the gale says no.) Not for you. Or with you. I am myself. Something living,breathing,thinking,feeling(sentient.) But somehow those words dont work. (Malicious.) I don't know maybe its not what it ought to be. Like id be better off like that? (I tell myself i wouldn't) But i wonder sometimes... It would be nice ya know? To feel that kind of warmth. Without and within. Within and without. Perhaps in going about this all wrong. Place. Time. Reasons. (Ive gone about this oh so wrong.) They can just laugh it off. Yeah...they just laugh it off. (Laugh it off why don't you?) Because i don't know whats so damned funny. I think i missed the punchline. Its louder once in here. (The GALE.) Its so easy to let go... But oh so hard to reach again. Not so sure now it wants to be found, it lies in silent contemplation. (It wants to. But not for the key.) Perhaps i lost it along the way. Perhaps we lost it along the way. And this tunnels gotten pitch black dark. Don't even know which way to start. And in the dark (and in the GALE) the key seems lost. And if only the Gale would die down....if only for an instant...
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