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sarah-jystadPoems
a few seconds left a few minutes a few hours a few days i'm spinning in circles, twirling the sky, and the dizziness decreases. every second hand's tick echoes infinitely echo echo a glance, a hand-wring I pick my nails. Time the departure and arrival of the present Evolution of the future into the past.           The grass is growing           The surroundings groan while i try to open my eyes     tense with     anticipation     excitation gas tank almost empty big capital e's have never looked so attractive Now, the doors will be unlocked, And ripped off And crunched, crushed, And incinerated, obliterated. Oh, what a refreshing breeze smells like sunflowers, pomegranates, and honey. Let's neglect new barriers.   I can see the pores of time. I'm the future a crane, an eagle an equal The doorknob's key is in my hand, An axe in the other. All those years of inescapable limitation to the view from a windowsill, they will soon be the senile, wrinkled remains of tears, of fears, of jeers. Soon, I will soar Escape this world of sore Existence at the core Of the personalities who tore At the pained cultivation of my soul, Who decided it was best to close my doors, I know, I swear, these shackles, held in the hands of unmuffled cackles, Will disintegrate in nothing but dust and flies to blind their eyes, Keeping them, from once again, Binding me into void oblivion, I am blinded by triumphant tears, They'll evaporate eventually, Leaving behind puffed and swollen emotional Glory.
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Feb 13, 2010
Feb 13, 2010 at 8:43 PM UTC
Anticipating Change
a few seconds left a few minutes a few hours a few days i'm spinning in circles, twirling the sky, and the dizziness decreases. every second hand's tick echoes infinitely echo echo a glance, a hand-wring I pick my nails. Time the departure and arrival of the present Evolution of the future into the past.           The grass is growing           The surroundings groan while i try to open my eyes     tense with     anticipation     excitation gas tank almost empty big capital e's have never looked so attractive Now, the doors will be unlocked, And ripped off And crunched, crushed, And incinerated, obliterated. Oh, what a refreshing breeze smells like sunflowers, pomegranates, and honey. Let's neglect new barriers.   I can see the pores of time. I'm the future a crane, an eagle an equal The doorknob's key is in my hand, An axe in the other. All those years of inescapable limitation to the view from a windowsill, they will soon be the senile, wrinkled remains of tears, of fears, of jeers. Soon, I will soar Escape this world of sore Existence at the core Of the personalities who tore At the pained cultivation of my soul, Who decided it was best to close my doors, I know, I swear, these shackles, held in the hands of unmuffled cackles, Will disintegrate in nothing but dust and flies to blind their eyes, Keeping them, from once again, Binding me into void oblivion, I am blinded by triumphant tears, They'll evaporate eventually, Leaving behind puffed and swollen emotional Glory.
5/05/09
Written by
sarah-jystad
American
Feb 13, 2010
Feb 13, 2010 at 8:43 PM UTC
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