From: Phain@yabbs
To: all@yabbs
Subject: re: 
Date: Wed Apr  6 08:27:44 1994

 A sullen place
 Barren
 Aged with careless time
 careless thought.
 A wasteland of thought 
 where idea is the only fabric rent
 And overflowal is a sudden end
 A quick escape
 A door.
 and i ?
 i am simply me.
 A number here
 a statistic
 a random blur of ones and zeros
 etched across the pathways of light and time
 across the iris of my counterparts in this maze of text
 a brief interlude to be read, skimmed or skipped
 at the touch of a key.
 All is random here
 At the crossroads.
 All is synthetic in these halls of loss and number.
 My eyes laden with cares of old, i reach out
 and imagine.
                           
 011010001011110101000101000101010000101011110101000101

                     - Phain