the hours escape me
slipping under the
door, down the sink
out of the
crack above the window
with the flush
of the toilet, in
a blink of
an eye, nothing for
them to hold
onto, nothing for them
to feed on
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| September 2004 / Volume Five / Issue Four | |||||||||
| James Quinton | |||||||||
| two hands moving fast the hours escape me slipping under the door, down the sink out of the crack above the window with the flush of the toilet, in a blink of an eye, nothing for them to hold onto, nothing for them to feed on |
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