Sunday, December 27, 2009



I thought I will awaken.
And when I do, the rooftops
will be above me.
Those we swooped over.

Rolling, hugging my pillow
everything would make sense.
Fall into another adventure
perhaps -- But.

Why is this blood
The credits would roll now.
dripping from where I pinched
my arm?

Upon these green scales.
And the houses. The village.
We are so above everything
as lightning flashes.

c. Ciprianowords, Inc. 2009

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