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Unknown
March 16, 2010
I drop the act,
the gig is up.
I can't contain it,
pooring out of
my entire being now.
The confusion
reeling inside me
is relentless.
Donning earbuds,
music blaring,
keeping time
with Mae as
metronome,
counting the tears
shed onto an
open wound.
Just as the music
falls to my soul,
I take up my pen,
falling unto paper,
and transcribe my
heart with a myriad
of intertwined,
un intelligible
hieroglyphical
translations
which are indecipherable
even to mine eye.
How could this come
to pass that my world
carefully unhinged
itself discretely
to my notice?
I was blind to myself.
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This article has 4 comments.
Milo! said...
on Apr. 6 2010 at 9:26 pm
This is really good! i really like how it flows and is easy to relate to. I hope to see more work from you! I would love it if you would read some of my work. I think you would like it.
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Favorite Quote:
"Let the beauty we love be what we do. There are hundreds ways to kneel and kiss the ground." - Rumi