Re A Lize A Shun.

Are you sifting off to sleep?
Are you soon to meet the dawn?
Traveller, traveller,
Treading on and on you go.
The world has been erased,
I am displaced.
I am me, a mortal plane
Of blood, bone and sinew,
Strained beneath the here and there,
Everywhere composed,
Unchanged,
Quite possibly deranged...

Soft, slow summer night lights
Lit the streets we walked upon,
We caroled on, we reveled for,
Raved on, spat and sat and saw
And saved for rainy days,
And sunny days,
And everydays,
And this is stupid.
This is beaten down verse of
Something I'm too lazy to entertain
You with properly,
Straightly,
Honestly and forwardly.
Merry-go-rounds of sputtered words,
Slip and slide alliteration,
Little words with little meaning,
Finally I figured out why I'm so sorry
At composing verse,
You just can't write the stuff
Until you've lived it first.