Mar 2015

By Arcassin B & Sonja B.M

SBM
left the ring in procession,
silently walked the track.
dust rose, the distance grew.
out of sight ,
talked in code and rhythms.
the train passed,
gulls flew the heat haze.
on return, no one spoke.
AB
Flowing streams,
Except very hard and rugged,
I remember the days of ceiling leaks into buckets,
I see,
Crazy shit when I'm on my meds,
Why dont you believe me,
When I say I see the tracks with a dark red.

I hate seeing things that are not there :'(
Arcassin B
Written by
Arcassin B  19/M/Palm Coast , FL
(19/M/Palm Coast , FL)   
389
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