I just died again

So many lifetimes unfolded in one second

That I’ll have to make a xerox

And send you copies

An artist made of sand

Dissolves as he writes this

I woke up this mourning

And it was the future

I’m sitting here melting

Watching the sun go down in your eyes

Goodbye blue skies

Those lovely blue eyes

I had a record player once

But I had to sell it

The records kept ending


  This poem is about psychic attack and the avenues of expression.  And the dilemma of the ephemeral nature of where we find ourselves.