Fragments

Sometimes there are fragments
Lines of awareness
That spin and fold
And linger in my head
Their omens hope
Their source life

These are but a few sounds
Beneath my heart
They wince at me
At lines of mirth
That smile at me

I face them
Inside them
Are the memories
Of these final
Strategies

Soon i will turn over
And sleep again
For now
I linger with them
A man without a face