I feel dead,lost in a world of stiff logic. All though it feels this way,the
earth says nothing and by doing so it makes the ground unsteady,it proceeds
in having nothing to hold itself. Although it feels this way,there is no
life in the hole that repeats itself in opening. I close my eyes as the wind
sheds its skin, in the water and white fumes in the sky.

Stinging the burned scars that color the gravel,realization does not play
the game of sitting ducks. Words that loosen themselves from the curved
lines, run across the lines of white. Questions collapse on other
questions,they do nothing but scream.

But somtimes they do things that put the burned scars away. Nothing is said
and Nothing is read,the walls might be red but never the curved symbols that
cross the white. All this is, is lost and found emotion.

I don't know. This is Just the way i feel.
 
Copyright © death_of_a_poet, All Rights Reserved