The air trails breathy trippy fog behind,
As my hand claws empty meanings,
And ink spills cryptic naked souls,
Overbearing..
When the stillness and rushing through of nightwind is merely
a fleeting sense of belonging.
A contest entry
- I want genious, abstract, something deep. by BigE.
300 points, ended December 6, 2007, 15 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Please tell me what you think
Comments
-
Very good
Very nice, deep and genious piece. I feel like you've captured the feeling so precise you could thread a needle with it. Thank you for entering, impressive write.
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