Oh, yeah ... you want to know "why is Brendan up at this hour? Hey, dude, don't you have to get up momentarily?" yep. All the more reason to beat the bitch's teeth down her esophagus ... this was the only time I had to get to uploading some damn updates!
Anyway, since I was up, here's another poem for y'all ... click on that handy LJ-cut thing, OK?
SWIRLING OUT OF SEASON
the void maintains
the void envelops
we can not shift
beyond its bounds
we are bled
without containment
drained of essence
without reserve
swirling nightmares
and storms enfold
no cessation
no clear escape
we fall down
to lower bases
dimmer stasis
fading grey
somehow it seems
there was some error
some broken point
which wrecked the line
all things are wrong
yet subtly shifted
where nothing works
or flows or moves
every item
so misplaced
guiding markers
scrambled now
we can not tell
which context harbors
the truer path
and which the dream
lost within
this common setting
no way to gauge
the year or day
the month or season
or incarnation
cast adrift
no way to face
- Brendan Tripp
03/25/2002
Copyright © 2002 by Brendan Tripp