Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Apr 2013
Wallowing inside the blackest sleep
I see images grow large and transform
into what feels like reality. Each night
my brain is transfixed on tragedy
and the loss of a loved one, as though
my soul is craving tears, lucid dreaming,
a haunted atmosphere.
These moments remind my body
that is alive, full of breath, a moving
corporeal skeleton. The wilderness
of my bones hear the dark silted thoughts.
Each wave comes with white spinning stars
as a granular moon sinks into my spine.
Kara Troglin
Written by
Kara Troglin  Fayetteville, Arkansas
(Fayetteville, Arkansas)   
604
 
Please log in to view and add comments on poems