#fahrenheit451
I walk along this street again
Chatting up a lone fireman
I tell the psychiatrist I'm just fine
As I taste rainwater like wine
And somehow it's a crime to go walking
Somehow we're strange for talking
I wish people would take me seriously
Instead of reducing me to an unbalanced teen
And maybe if they questioned just for a second
They'd see why Poe and Dickens beckon
So what if I hate school, screens, and parks?
I have my thoughts, books, and walks in the dark
Oct 11, 2016
Oct 11, 2016 at 8:20 AM UTC
Temples throb.
Ears burn red hot.
Myriad thoughts
Collide, coalesce and split.
Coalesce again.
A dark sand storm of doubts
Fear and panic brew
In the charred barrens.
Hands to my face.
Distant melancholy themes.
Overwhelmed.
Violent conceptions
Need release.
Red flows
Through graphite
At Fahrenheit 4-5-1.
Feb 3, 2014
Feb 3, 2014 at 1:33 PM UTC