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Micheal Bevan
Poems
Aug 2010
Existential Mess
I felt the world at a finger tip,
It tingled
And radiated,
Radius.
Sedated,
I am medicated on absence
And excess.
You are the mirror to me,
My existential mess,
Superiority and minority thought.
Superficial and fictitiously bought,
Buyer from the sold,
Silver to the raindrop,
Water to your gold.
It drips
Fingertips,
Touched the world at a lark,
Till light fled,
Leaving the dark.
I bid farewell to new,
And hello to you.
Written by
Micheal Bevan
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