A guttural growl rises from the pit of a throat
Fingers stuck in the teeth of a comb
Sliding slowly through the golden
Rays of sunshine tumble to the floor striking
tiny dust mites frenzy away
from the breeze as its tapered acres
Tunnel up my sleeves
breathing them up round like sausages
Elbows harshly angle against
Flannel-soft warmth
Floating. raging. breaking. choking.
Rust and anger dust across the TV screen
fingerprints
sully the nearly clean
computer window to the world
where children scar themselves on the too cold edges
found in the playground of people’s minds
where the truth they find
lies blistered in mazes, and
blooms fiery blazes across bruised cheekbones
drooping eyelids lift loads
one last time beyond
above.............. beneath
............below
The insertion of logic based on one thing, so lovely and useless:
............................................Hope..................
Author notes
um so maybe i need to get some sleep cause this whole writing when i'm delirious thing doesn't seem to work so well, i know this doesn't make sense, but i kinda like it anyways. . .
Written November 8th, 2005
What did you think
Comments
-
Fantastic
It doesn't make sense to me, but I am kind of tired. Now that I read it once again, it makes sense. If you misread one line, you are unable to tell what it is about. I would call this a ver insightful poem. You did a great job of leading the reader on. I hope that you will continue writing and have a nice day!
Adding your comment:
