two eyes,
blank stare,
glazed glasses,
be aware,
of numbness,
of nothing...
must be ice,
no, too nice,
trace a finger, cold can burn,
as much as fire, so can desire,
if ...
can one see beyond,
beyond the flesh,
find inspired fuel,
or a be the fool,
stand before the muse
transparent, transported,
just by moving frosbit lips,
against the willing warmth,
of acceptance,
yet where be the muse,
yet let there be amuse-
ment,
because this ice is seriously,
frozen to this heart.
No light moments,
may laughter, shatter
the cast cold and surely,
refusing to be released,
it is not the fingers that
need to write but the
block that is the
frozen heart,
move
closer
please.
Feb 7, 2015
Feb 7, 2015 at 11:57 PM UTC
two eyes,
blank stare,
glazed glasses,
be aware,
of numbness,
of nothing...
must be ice,
no, too nice,
trace a finger, cold can burn,
as much as fire, so can desire,
if ...
can one see beyond,
beyond the flesh,
find inspired fuel,
or a be the fool,
stand before the muse
transparent, transported,
just by moving frosbit lips,
against the willing warmth,
of acceptance,
yet where be the muse,
yet let there be amuse-
ment,
because this ice is seriously,
frozen to this heart.
No light moments,
may laughter, shatter
the cast cold and surely,
refusing to be released,
it is not the fingers that
need to write but the
block that is the
frozen heart,
move
closer
please.
Not a happy place.
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