Saturday, August 27, 2016

8572. DIGRESSION

DIGRESSION
I love to capture moments, little
pieces of life. Just writing about things
to keep them alive. No one seems to care,
it all falls flat. Nobody leaves a message
to say I've given comfort or gave them an idea.
It's a lonely crowd, it's a crowd of a thousand
with only me. Somehow; the last Indian on the
Indian reservation; the final captain in a fleet
of sunk ships, the bandmaster of a band with 
all broken drums and tubas.

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