Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Apr 2014
I dream about the ice,
I miss its tongue
hanging over the precipe,
sheets breaking & sliding,
crashing over the moraine
to crack,
smash itself
into oblivion,
tiny chunks of glass.

And sadly,
nothing here,
not a ****** thing
in this temporal
techno-world
will suffice.
Jonny Angel
Written by
Jonny Angel  GRB090423
(GRB090423)   
390
   ---, Petal pie and SG Holter
Please log in to view and add comments on poems