Jul 8
Bricks under our soles, and
The fluttering of mushed sounds
Paddle inside mine ear.
A portion resembles a desperate race -
Another scoop conveys an andante walk -
And a fierce heap of…
Stiff and hollow steps—
Ring in a shallow manner—
Down through the dim alleyway—
Methinks, they are all going in some sort of
Clear or foggy direction,
Where some signs are faded from the sunlight,
And some signs are scratched away at by the
Huffing—and—puffing of the decades.
The fluttering of mushed sounds
Paddle inside mine ear.
A portion resembles a desperate race -
Another scoop conveys an andante walk -
And a fierce heap of…
Stiff and hollow steps—
Ring in a shallow manner—
Down through the dim alleyway—
Methinks, they are all going in some sort of
Clear or foggy direction,
Where some signs are faded from the sunlight,
And some signs are scratched away at by the
Huffing—and—puffing of the decades.
—There is so much hollow space open to fill with thoughts;
And some crouching behind leaves, some over our heads, and some needing a key—
To recollect the fact that these should be tricky to grasp in one’s cornea and not defined as ‘inaccessible’.
And some crouching behind leaves, some over our heads, and some needing a key—
To recollect the fact that these should be tricky to grasp in one’s cornea and not defined as ‘inaccessible’.
