Sharon: Maneuvers, getting out of the cross hairs, skimming

through encounters to find only what is critical,

the point of having it good slowly ebbs, ebbs because

time is the enemy, ebbs because for all the cunning,

all the sharpness, time is still the lord, and I cannot escape

time’s grasp, ebb, ebb, and it feels like the climax of an

event, an event to occur, occurring, have occurred, have I

said it backwards? I know not, that life is fleeting and I’ve

built myself to escape poverty, a hard life, escaping getting

screwed, I rather do the screwing, only to find that

this is not paradise, not even close, this desperate need to cling

on to what is temporal, I cannot let go. And it all makes sense, does it?

Tomorrow, I will find my way back, the old trails, the many

experiences have taught me well, ebb, ebb, ebb

that drip, that torrent, a whirl storm, shut it off. It is all

I can hear, it is all I can see, shut it out.