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All I Ever Touch
© November 2005, Roy Stucky

My vision is haunted by shadows that speak.
The longing they trigger remains incomplete.
The signal reception is urgent yet weak.
A pattern with detail that never repeats.

All I ever touch is your picture.
All I get to braille is a TV screen.
All I ever touch is your picture.
Bell jar sealed in a sad dream.

My walls start to tremble from pressure outside.
Ten billion grey phantoms at war with the light.
I watch them advance like the pulse of the tide.
A force far too massive to wage a fair fight.

All I ever touch is your picture.
All I get to braille is a TV screen.
All I ever touch is your picture.
Bell jar sealed in a sad dream.

Instead of a mob can I greet a true face?
This solo endeavor seems destined to fail.
My friends all belong to an odd sort of race.
They look just like people but drawn in tenth scale.

All I ever touch is your picture.
All I get to braille is a TV screen.
All I ever touch is your picture.
Bell jar sealed in a sad dream.