I was an idle child, hiding silently
behind old curtains, concealing my gaze
to the rain-dampened street
that beckoned me beyond the window.
There was an unquenchable thirst, a burning,
Irrepressible drive, which had followed me
Whispering down the nape of my neck,
Provoking me, summoning me
To the uncertain depths
Of the flower-bearing forest.
It has followed me well into the age
Where the fancies of childhood
Are replaced
By ***** drunken nights—
hunting, scavenging, like some id-ridden
savage, for the fleeting taste of adventure
that was suppressed with painful gratuity
as we grounded our souls, and our longings
into the confines of the world.
Feb 18, 2012
Feb 18, 2012 at 10:37 PM UTC
I was an idle child, hiding silently
behind old curtains, concealing my gaze
to the rain-dampened street
that beckoned me beyond the window.
There was an unquenchable thirst, a burning,
Irrepressible drive, which had followed me
Whispering down the nape of my neck,
Provoking me, summoning me
To the uncertain depths
Of the flower-bearing forest.
It has followed me well into the age
Where the fancies of childhood
Are replaced
By ***** drunken nights—
hunting, scavenging, like some id-ridden
savage, for the fleeting taste of adventure
that was suppressed with painful gratuity
as we grounded our souls, and our longings
into the confines of the world.
Request permission to use this poem