Missing in Action b

As pruience cuts me both ways

So prudence cautions in the proof.

Distant sterile words don't speak,

Don't say.

A brush of shadow whispers grief

And unrelenting sorrows twist

As murky pudding stews, is mi-


Still life also dwells midst

Twists in the mixt. I write the score.

I am the spin doctor. Am I


Where do we go round? The balloons

Are beyond my grasp. Menace lurks,

Lace decimates her face. Or joy

Comes round.

Goes round. The curve of my mind loops

Back. Balloons. They didn't know how

To say. Get yourself a Hallmark!

Go round?