john-t-davis-1Whisper

American

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FRIDAYThe burning of eyes late in the afternoon.Longing for those convivial feelings,One knows exists in the distance of time.Friday is what all say the day is calledYet this feels untrue untill the day itself is near its end.A waste?The day waited on for so long.A silence comes across the room whenThis thought enthralls the mind.Such joy in the morning!Yet one feels nothing near thisUntil late late in the afternoon.

6

Feb 2, 2010

Common PlaceBullets cut through the air. / Making noise that would drop Napoleon to his knees. / This night has turned into a screaming prayer for death.

11

Feb 1, 2010

ProcrastinationToday Feelings are dense / Seperable? yes, but by no average surf / The air is quiet. All noise comes from within.

14

Feb 1, 2010

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