I'm sure I'll pull the covers up (till my nose) when you reach finally, but it might take a while. When your smile becomes a laugh and you skid while skipping. I lap it all up like a thirsty cat.
Tuesday, September 24, 2013
Thursday, September 5, 2013
No sheep just sleep
We tire so easy, no rhyme no rhythm, only some prose - total surrender makes us perspire, little beads making way for the floor; or damp armpits.
Who's got the stash, you ask. They said they wanted to walk. Clamber down the stairs, restless, almost panicking. Walk along the asphalt, yellow lights a slow blink above.
Where did everyone disappear, I wondered. They were in a song, their voices in sync.
What happened, I wondered. They were all singularly strange, often the misfits.
Loopy, with messy hair, incoherent, mute.
I think I might leave an imprint.
How do you deal with boredom & lose the stony eye?
Who's got the stash, you ask. They said they wanted to walk. Clamber down the stairs, restless, almost panicking. Walk along the asphalt, yellow lights a slow blink above.
Where did everyone disappear, I wondered. They were in a song, their voices in sync.
What happened, I wondered. They were all singularly strange, often the misfits.
Loopy, with messy hair, incoherent, mute.
I think I might leave an imprint.
How do you deal with boredom & lose the stony eye?
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