Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Dec 2015
Homegrown but hermetically sealed
from people, places, ways to feel.
Dropping a tablet on a tongue,
Korbel divides around pink sponge;
swallowing four or five, to avoid feeling alive.
There are cars leaving trails of thoughts.
Dare them to drive,
drunk on moments,
stuck on other people--
her freckles could fall to the floor
and turn the tiles into an oceanic remembrance.

-

We are lost trees, reaching out
but stuck where we say we'll soon leave:
rooted even after death,
relying on escape so much that hope
becomes our prison.
Joshua Haines
Written by
Joshua Haines  26/M/Father, Husband, Writer
(26/M/Father, Husband, Writer)   
Please log in to view and add comments on poems