the tarnished inbetween where time means nothing at all. i found myself there wrapped in rags scraps shreds and disparate threads that linked like knobby elbows and dirty forearms grimy fingers and ragged half bitten nails in innocent if only naive abandon. a trust betrayed and garment frayed by nervous fidgeting and ever picking pulling tearing hands of time/time again and again forever never tied to a thread thin worn and almost nothing at all to hold in the vice of strong fingers like trying to pinch a drop of water and stay its endless wanderlust so insatiable falling into onto in itself could not slake/or stall its hopeless helpless yearning for home for the sea now the sky or somewhere always in between where time means nothing at all. i found myself there w r a p p e d . . .



















ae.