I don’t read anymore.
Sleep is plumped
With fitful streams of wandering dreams
of past, of tomorrow, of realities gone
long unlived.
My eyes open in a sunset-stare.
Emotions of an afterlife
reeling by in a blinding slog.
Breakneck.
Weighting.
Meaningless words create wordless speech.
The body starts and stops in aching pains.
My gaze is moon-lit;
My hands, sea-soaked, parting darkened waters.
Their shallow dips leave wakes by and by.
Don't want to need anymore.
I can only bleed.
Bone and flesh and blood
are all that I can become.
-Raphael Armand
2 comments:
great poem, and the gradual color change is a cool touch.
Thanks. still working on it. It feels too short and the rhythm is not quite how i want it. I've already revised it.
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