By Crystevin
Date: 4 May 1999

Treadmill Trance

In a crowded room,
stepping back. 
leaning,
not falling.
seeing,
not looking.
speaking,
saying nothing.
deafened,
by the quiet.

Running nowhere fast
images like still shots

flash bulbs in my mind
of other times,

memories.

Rebelling against nature
as nature takes control
and slipping into passivity
while turmoil erupts
around me.

Sleeveless hearts
write from the hip
while other body parts
stare and wonder
in amazement.

Deepness finds
 shallow ground
 however murky
 circumstances seem
 as i wade my way
 from there
to here.