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By j. knipp Date: 2003 Apr 30 Comment on this Work [[2003.04.30.23.37.5682]] |
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My eyelids feel like sponges Drinking tears. The will to lift This pen comes to me from Deep down, a well within. Will the bucket, will it up Draw the ink. Ambiguities Can be wit. For the foolish it Can be wit. But make what You will of the words Before you, the meaning they Draw forth, is not of my inking. Exhaustion... how Was your day? Rough I imagine I can't control the whims of Wind, no net of my Crafting can hold it fast To my breast. Though I can grasp it like A foolish child and I Will learn of its cactus like Nature. But if the wind Notes my despair will it pity Or flee? It needs to Be free. It mayhap Carries seasoned scents in It's traveled cloak of Ethereal threads. I don't Want to let you go. I don't want to Suffocate. |