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senor-negativoPoems
For too long. It has been too long... I sit and flip back through the scrapbooks collected in my head... Searching. Reaching. Pleading for one reason, one touch, one gesture, one true declaration... I can't find one, not one. If one exists, now its gone... What I have endured without the simplest sustenance, not so much as a grizzle scrap... And still I must give? I have nothing of worth. I am not sure that I ever have... A willow, wilts and dies in a neverending drought... What will I do when the last drop in the well is gone? Does the last full bucket look different from the ones drawn before? When the tree falls in the woods and no one cares either way is it worth the effort for the poor pathetic thing to make a sound at all?
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Aug 24, 2015
Aug 24, 2015 at 6:05 PM UTC
What Does It Feel Like?
For too long. It has been too long... I sit and flip back through the scrapbooks collected in my head... Searching. Reaching. Pleading for one reason, one touch, one gesture, one true declaration... I can't find one, not one. If one exists, now its gone... What I have endured without the simplest sustenance, not so much as a grizzle scrap... And still I must give? I have nothing of worth. I am not sure that I ever have... A willow, wilts and dies in a neverending drought... What will I do when the last drop in the well is gone? Does the last full bucket look different from the ones drawn before? When the tree falls in the woods and no one cares either way is it worth the effort for the poor pathetic thing to make a sound at all?
senor-negativo
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senor-negativo
Aug 24, 2015
Aug 24, 2015 at 6:05 PM UTC
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