Stumbling into Lonesome   Sleeping soundly  before the west
bound train shakes  the foundation deep enough  to elevate the
marigolds  that burn orange with yellow  afterthoughts. She is
breathing heavy  underneath the early daylight that  scatters
across the hardwood floor.   Waking wildly  after a purple
threading nightmare  collapses, she is swimming in  the
disconnection. Barely aware  of morning, but slipping slowly
into every hesitation. She sees the  disappearing dream struggle
back  to unreachable prisons of despair.   Active almost,  the
alarm clock beeps in a  cajoling tone. The world is a velvet
habitat that has no visable bars, but  some incarnations are
more than  permanent. She breaks completely in this  eggshell
lonely life. Where the sun  sends shivers to a distant place.