FramesBlonde (lowkey_liesmith) wrote, @ 2004-11-16 10:56:00

no diggity
Late Night, Early Morning

a pale,silver sickle, hangs suspicously in
the night sky...these eve-time hours are
not mine. All seems frozen, still-frame,
sublime. My conciousness lies, within a
ruinous eye.
Half awake, I turn a languid glance round.
Reflections like gridlock, impede my view.
Slowly, slithering complications accrue, as
a dreamy, sandy drake, my senses seeks to impound.
Limbs failing, I'm falling, into voluptous
void. my eyes see only impractical
thoughts. Touch, taste, sound and smell,
in muddy waters caught. I'm a remote-
controlled, secret hope fueled, android.
I catch the gusts and climb the skies
knees. My glasses are gone; how infinitely
fun! In my dreams I could, a cheetah
outrun. Never tiring, no longer aspiring,
to anything be.


Copyright ©2004 Marcos Rubio

I wrote this about 2 years ago. It's on poetry.com...I really like it because I remember everything about that night. I hope you like it too.

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