I can only imagine
at 3am writing alone
consuming caffeine eyes wide open
visiting the junctions of life
love isn’t always true
it’s a complicated thing
something we all do
in the crack of a smile
hanging on an empty face
I hear the tick
of time bending slowly
-bluesy kind of feel
painted pigments whirl-winding
a windmill of thoughts
blinding
like a sterile white room
aches - for well voices
scattered thoughts fall
through invisible breaths
*
*
*
sometimes
it rains inside my head
liquid voices soothing
a million miles from yesterday
burning holes on the edge of imagination
catching words
in sweet scents of vanilla
-behind thin black veils
the sun spits morning
defining another tick of a clock
activating the will to survive
and I can only imagine
at 3am writing alone
consuming caffeine eyes wide open
visiting the junctions of life
that I might miss a speck
of meaning around a sharp bend
as time ticks
bending slowly
Gold trophy winner
Honorable mention
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