Saturday, December 16, 2006


From whom am I hiding?
Is it God?
I hide from confrontation. And the transgressions of my past. Yet still they haunt. Still they jaunt. Still the visit in the hour which I least suspect.

Hammers and nails do little to aid the process.
Turn it up. Maybe that'll get rid of it...
But the days go on. Shorter then longer then shorter.

This is 21.

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