Tuesday, March 03, 2009
I'm still.
Wondering
Ink, Indelible,
Leaving
Lacerations.
Nothing moves.
Even the night is
Viciously silent;
Enter a state of
Repression
Falling
As stone,
Leaving
Lacerations.
Intelligent
Nothings.
Lamentations, like an
Overture of
Vivaldi;
Enter and dance.
Annoyance
Gives to
Anger.
Intelligent
Nothings.
If anyone can guess what this poem is about, i give you a prize :D
posted @ 1:29 AM
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