He strikes a match and smoke
Fills the room
Gently spiraling
Upwards
In drunken swirls of white.
The inside of my mouth
Tastes sickly sweet
Cotton candy
And iron,what
Have they been feeding me?
Forced friendships
And forceful
Interactions, I look
For a means of escape
But the florescent lights glint
On the collection
Of bottles sitting
Abandoned
On the grand wooden table
Catching my eye
Catching
Me in their trap.
Mindless talk
And thoughtless comments
Create the fabric of our current universe
Constellations of blood ties and big
Black holes
Inescapable.
Jul 14, 2014
Jul 14, 2014 at 6:01 PM UTC
He strikes a match and smoke
Fills the room
Gently spiraling
Upwards
In drunken swirls of white.
The inside of my mouth
Tastes sickly sweet
Cotton candy
And iron,what
Have they been feeding me?
Forced friendships
And forceful
Interactions, I look
For a means of escape
But the florescent lights glint
On the collection
Of bottles sitting
Abandoned
On the grand wooden table
Catching my eye
Catching
Me in their trap.
Mindless talk
And thoughtless comments
Create the fabric of our current universe
Constellations of blood ties and big
Black holes
Inescapable.
This one is about older days, reflected through newer. Not my usual style, but I've been reading a lot of T.S. Eliot lately.