am conscious
of the ticking clock
how
the bleached reef
of a window frame
intimidates,
says
something
of a heed untaken,
propagates the
cloud-seed doubt
with lightly spoken
fallacy,
recoiling
on a layman
tongue.
Am
aware of where
the sentence stops.
where syllables
of rhinestone rain,
call sibylline ,
reverberate
in thick
galactic suburbs.
How
soporific
doppler-shifts of
moving conversation
played me, staring
down the outpost
of my unbecoming
walls.
Jul 27, 2019
Jul 27, 2019 at 12:29 AM UTC
am conscious
of the ticking clock
how
the bleached reef
of a window frame
intimidates,
says
something
of a heed untaken,
propagates the
cloud-seed doubt
with lightly spoken
fallacy,
recoiling
on a layman
tongue.
Am
aware of where
the sentence stops.
where syllables
of rhinestone rain,
call sibylline ,
reverberate
in thick
galactic suburbs.
How
soporific
doppler-shifts of
moving conversation
played me, staring
down the outpost
of my unbecoming
walls.
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