CIRCLES
IN THE SAND a thousand miles away. i'm
drawing circles again. a thousand miles away. i'm never coming home.
WEB OF MY OWN when innocence ended -
taking the snarling laughter and - as always the sullens, - i felt
hate penetrate - and silence that disintegrated my ears: - squeaker
rings rolled in a music box, - and looking at the mirror, - there is
nothing there.
CIRCLES
IN THE SAND