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North American Dreaming: The Back Bays Of My Mind

Are we mere flotsam adrift on a sea of insanity, muses poet William Burkholder.

Please visit Bill's well-stocked Web site http://www.freewebs.com/nirvanasgate/index.htm

I awake to seismic tides
In the back bays of my mind
Floating and drifting on an ocean
Of bent sidewalk laughter
Entwined in mad man's rapture of
Flesh and pride
Blown against the dock walls in
Pallored gray gales
Rising and falling with the storms
Flotsam.
I run to stem the coming tide of madness
Rattling locked gates
Forbidden entry to sanity's realm
Grabbing my groin in locked perverted passion
Forgotten and begotten of all things lost and lonely
Tearing at my flesh as if it were an acid bath
removing my skin one lonely inch at a time
Screaming, I pray
For the end to come
But the tides carry me back out to sea
And I drift
Human flotsam in a sea of insanity


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