voices rise to fever pitch
children turn blue
nothing old, nothing new
cold grey embers
clutch blindly
the invisible sun
and I remember
writhing, fading
celebrating
In the mist's
stranglehold
Can I sail thru the changing ocean tides
Can I handle the seasons of my life
sky unravels
its clammy coat
frosty brew
chilled just for you
rigid fight
numbing bite
iced eyelid
spiked lashes
welcome gashes
and if you see my reflection in a snow covered hill
well maybe....
the landslide will bring you down
frozen fingertips
finally feel right
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About Me
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9 comments:
Always-you..in everything you write...mystic and lucid at the same time...
ethereal ...
Poignant contrast, you and those others.
The frozen bite... Yes!
always so disconnected as though life is seen through a greasy window from the outside looking in.
awesome write da inky
cj:you ever seen a grease free life or a perfect window? I would hate that.
sophie: thanks
okay where do you get such inspiration? what makes you write this way? .. hmm the mind boggles as to how your mind boggles
It's as if two voices are circling each other instincually, waiting for the other to attack. Which one will win?
san: its the foul air I breathe lol!
mermaid: neither possibly. winter will overwhelm. we'll be buried in the landslide..
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