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sgholterPoems
Body hurts from last night's wine and This morning's lifting. Hands shake, sounds of construction Like an insane symphony of Unsilence. My limbs are the fingers of a clenched Fist around the hope that The hours may grow wings. The city, a snail outside The construction site fence. We're both prisoners under a Sky that's waiting to downpour, Giving each other nervous looks Through iron bars, smiling Unwillingly with tears in our eyes, To immitate consolement. Today, a line has been drawn between The world and its enemy, Of which I'm on the wrong side. This is how I die; A drowned flower. A bleeding scar. An Exposed nerve in the rain. At least I have the wine. Without it, I'd never get this thirsty.
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Apr 30, 2015
Apr 30, 2015 at 5:03 AM UTC
An Insane Symphony of Unsilence
Body hurts from last night's wine and This morning's lifting. Hands shake, sounds of construction Like an insane symphony of Unsilence. My limbs are the fingers of a clenched Fist around the hope that The hours may grow wings. The city, a snail outside The construction site fence. We're both prisoners under a Sky that's waiting to downpour, Giving each other nervous looks Through iron bars, smiling Unwillingly with tears in our eyes, To immitate consolement. Today, a line has been drawn between The world and its enemy, Of which I'm on the wrong side. This is how I die; A drowned flower. A bleeding scar. An Exposed nerve in the rain. At least I have the wine. Without it, I'd never get this thirsty.
sgholter
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sgholter
Apr 30, 2015
Apr 30, 2015 at 5:03 AM UTC
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