Words dance across a blank page.
Words that create lines.
Lines that create stanzas
Attractive to the eye.
Seductive to he mind.
Alluring to the lips,
They pass so freely.
Taking their designated course.
Creeping through your pupils.
Traveling from the frontal,
Pulsating through the temporal,
Stopping at the occipital,
Dissolving slowly.
Until it becomes one with you.
The ink becomes apart of the grey matter.
It is one with you, you are on with it.
Jul 12, 2011
Jul 12, 2011 at 10:42 PM UTC
Words dance across a blank page.
Words that create lines.
Lines that create stanzas
Attractive to the eye.
Seductive to he mind.
Alluring to the lips,
They pass so freely.
Taking their designated course.
Creeping through your pupils.
Traveling from the frontal,
Pulsating through the temporal,
Stopping at the occipital,
Dissolving slowly.
Until it becomes one with you.
The ink becomes apart of the grey matter.
It is one with you, you are on with it.