in the breath of the lights,
I wander through the hysterical
questions of urban mystery.
they play like a forgotten measure
of an ancient symphony, recorded
on mental parchment...
with my invisible fingers, I try
to trace those chords
back to the harmonic puzzle
from whence they came.
yet, I am swallowed by dissonant
voices, speaking from the black windows
and rubicund eyes, burnt
into memory.
so, do those questions
still exist somewhere
beneath that
which is
audible?
I do not yet hear them.
Aug 21, 2014
Aug 21, 2014 at 1:23 PM UTC
this scroll has been
erased
blankened by neglect
its anger has washed clear
the ink that once flowed
across
its parchment pages
those who pass it by
fail to see
the d y i n g
words.
where is the pen
that will embody
the white space
once again?
Aug 15, 2014
Aug 15, 2014 at 11:35 AM UTC
lost in red
delusional labyrinths,
her bulbous eyes depict an
undiscovered fear
within.
walls built
to be impenetrable,
soundproof, stand
permanently - forming
a psychotic structure
preventing communication,
the trans-
la tion
of drows rutsegse guothhst
(words, gestures, thoughts)
and she pushes with anorexic
fingers against
the cinder
blocks, as the
at mos fear
cringes
around
h e r...
does escape exist?
Aug 11, 2014
Aug 11, 2014 at 10:47 AM UTC