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kimberle-killipsPoems
We're in a house, Apparently ours, and I'm smashing your things You've never seen, You're smashing my things I've never seen. A crack is made by your Closed fist on a tank containing Unidentified carnivores of the sea. The tank very nearly emptied it's Contents, but the scene changed. A bear now terrorized the house. Furniture stood in the way between It and the upstairs where you'd Find us hiding. Someone fell through the fragile wooden Floor, not sure if they made it. Ripping the screen from the window, We made it out, but the bear was still inside. I was being pursued. By the bear? Unclear. I knew it was different though, For I was soaked and outside, begging admittance into a stranger's house. New dry clothes were found In the bathroom. I found it Strangely difficult to change. I had to get out. He was in the house Already. How does he always find me? A station wagon with a man and son was my getaway car. But I just couldn't Get away. Somehow they knew I didn't Belong there. We were being tracked. Then **** The car, the man, the boy, All gone. What's left was me on the Road with the pursuer fast approaching.
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Dec 2, 2010
Dec 2, 2010 at 7:48 PM UTC
Dreams
We're in a house, Apparently ours, and I'm smashing your things You've never seen, You're smashing my things I've never seen. A crack is made by your Closed fist on a tank containing Unidentified carnivores of the sea. The tank very nearly emptied it's Contents, but the scene changed. A bear now terrorized the house. Furniture stood in the way between It and the upstairs where you'd Find us hiding. Someone fell through the fragile wooden Floor, not sure if they made it. Ripping the screen from the window, We made it out, but the bear was still inside. I was being pursued. By the bear? Unclear. I knew it was different though, For I was soaked and outside, begging admittance into a stranger's house. New dry clothes were found In the bathroom. I found it Strangely difficult to change. I had to get out. He was in the house Already. How does he always find me? A station wagon with a man and son was my getaway car. But I just couldn't Get away. Somehow they knew I didn't Belong there. We were being tracked. Then **** The car, the man, the boy, All gone. What's left was me on the Road with the pursuer fast approaching.
My dreams can be rather odd sometimes.
kimberle-killips
Written by
kimberle-killips
American
Dec 2, 2010
Dec 2, 2010 at 7:48 PM UTC
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