The pixilated light I hold in my hands
I prefer over the rays of the star we orbit.
When the sun falls down, to spread its golden shine to a different plane,
Mine glows brighter still, ethereal, clean and white.
I cover my head, my soul, as I **** out my insecurities, like a dog marking its territory, all over the virtual forest of broken lives.
Screaming out coyly for attention to rescue my mind from the insolence I perceive my reality to be, behind ironic wording and new age grammar, I wear like plastic garments, leeching toxins into my infected blood stream
Sweat stained dream
Ripped seam
Digital gleam
Internet fiend
“Why is the world so mean?”
Sep 29, 2016
Sep 29, 2016 at 6:31 PM UTC
The pixilated light I hold in my hands
I prefer over the rays of the star we orbit.
When the sun falls down, to spread its golden shine to a different plane,
Mine glows brighter still, ethereal, clean and white.
I cover my head, my soul, as I **** out my insecurities, like a dog marking its territory, all over the virtual forest of broken lives.
Screaming out coyly for attention to rescue my mind from the insolence I perceive my reality to be, behind ironic wording and new age grammar, I wear like plastic garments, leeching toxins into my infected blood stream
Sweat stained dream
Ripped seam
Digital gleam
Internet fiend
“Why is the world so mean?”
