Tangle

Folder: 
Old

Strings... playing silent breaths.

Wings... flying into death.

Sing... Sing this song with me.



Eyes... clouded by a spec.

Cries... clad in muffled steps.

Rise... Rise so low like me.



Mind... angled towards the moon.

Signs... point too far too soon.

Rhyme... Rhyme so trite like me.



Words... thinning by the tock.

Herds... of some fruitless thoughts.

Burn... Burn the ice on me.





Yearn for vice like me.

And turn the rice you see

To dried and blackened grains

Inside my gut-plains where it never rains.

And see my mice in maze

Lost in ever chilly corner,

Reaching for a vision warmer with their icy gaze.



Do I hit upon the vision that I wish I'd see

With fine precision?

Or am I word-shots in the dark?

Relentless ammunition:

Bullets bouncing off the walls

With blurbs of indecision.



I'm such a fucking tangle,

Forming useless rue that dangles.

And yeah, I love it.

View grahf's Full Portfolio