Blurty for FramesBlonde.
|
|||||||||
| Tuesday, November 16th, 2004 |
|
||||
|
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. |
||||
|
|
Blurty for FramesBlonde.
|
|||||||||||