By Martin Falatic
Written 1994-05-24 16:12
Revised 1994-05-24 16:12
My dreams lie like broken toys, abandoned and forgotten,
rusting in the chilly rain of yesterday's passion.
The present is unbroken ground...
only a stern plow will turn over the stubborn desert,
and make it live again.
The future stands before me an open road, shrouded in darkness:
the stuff of nightmares.
Faceless and raw, it mocks my feeble barriers;
it is the wind in my hair, the cold in my spine,
it is everywhere, unstoppable.
It rushes towards me, as I stand frozen with fear,
knowing I cannot stop the clocks anymore.