Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Jan 2013
The glass is flying too quickly,
time is shuddering like a demolished foundation,
and I can feel snapping in my chest,
like the air in my knuckles,
but like nails in my heart,
it doesn't even hurt,
as I fly through the air,
into the newspaper stand,
2x4's splintering in my wake,
as I collapse alongside the brick wall,
completely and utterly surprised,
I swallow my teeth,
and walk.
Frank Corbett
Written by
Frank Corbett  Connecticut
(Connecticut)   
546
   Julia
Please log in to view and add comments on poems