your own planet

the poetry of dr zen

Sunday, February 16, 1997

Waiting room

I dream of moving
into the cold
empty blue sky

I have feathers on me
freezing on my skin
I have dreams to live out
waiting to begin

I dream of sailing
into the night
black starlit sky

I have lead inside
the veins of my beating heart
a cold and hungry beast
tears itself apart

in the desert
the tearless trackless waste
all you do
is wait.

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