The Ball Is In Your Court

What a bummer,

when I betray my own intentions,

and your hand melds into one with my spine;

and I am slowly led to bed where each night erodes a little less sleep

while screaming for relief to all the Gods who have come before and left

scribbling bits of poems on scraps of paper; trails into leaving any
more second comings gone!

lloyd marbet, 9/16/99