it all starts over again

clattery old grey bones of a winter’s tree
tap upon his frosted window urgently
but this half-crazed, tired occupant
is lost in slef-made fog and wandering intent
just a man in a suit of skin upon the land
getting away, walking fast you understand
he could never bear to be alone with himself
better hidden in the crowd then still upon the shelf
a wandering set of eyes soaking the world in
until the weight drives him back to where he’s been
and it all starts over again…

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