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Edgar Whitman Wilde
Poems
Nov 2012
it
i have been searching
searching for something
something that remains
always beyond my reach
like a post apocalyptic
nuclear holocaust of the mind
that which is sought
appears blind with
burnt out eyes and silenced
in case there is death in sleep
or a river of blood in the after life
then finding a reason
for that which is sought
everything becomes numb
sacrificed to old Polaroids
floating on the edge
of the solar system
where desperate people
dream of the best way to die
Among an uploading minds eye
where doors refuse to close
that which is sought, it, still eludes
Written by
Edgar Whitman Wilde
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