i sat on the dock to fumble the pages of thought that keep me from sleep but my mind keeps pacing that old circle's path till my feet are raw and worn. you might see me wearing a noose for a necklace stalking my prey downtown where the wild things become glass statues, so that we may pray to them for hope. my mind is a racetrack with no finish line just fish hooked mouths and duct taped ears, to keep my words trapped between their bars and eyes.