La Llorona

Drifting in and out of here or there

Thursday, March 26, 2009


Todaytomorrowyesterdaytomorrow all is the same; not one from the other creeping voices coming through. All times are the same, daynightdaynight I can hardly tell which is which. Mostly by the level of activity around the world around me not by the cycles of the sun. I think I am gradually becoming less of me and more of the world and roundings. But without me, my beating, my floating, my babies will dissappear and I can't do that they are slopping into oblivian with me for who is there to remember them when I am gone. I can see their faces and smell their smells and oh how I need to wrap my arms around my babies but where are they and how can I keep from slipping away?