Monday, January 14, 2013


I'm inside with it
all, the bleeding
results of my insatiable mind.
I can't bare
the thought of standing
dry, abandoned
in the force of a world
identical to myself.
Is this greed?
No. But can they
understand the difference
between my needs
and the wantings of the market place.
Would any man give
thought to my soul
as it struggles, as it sways
upon the auction block?
I could sell,
give away my projections,
let them decide the cost.
But, when it ends,
when the bidding storm dissipates,
as I stand in the raw
what will be my value?

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