Suns Are Flowers...To Clouds Passing By

Singing to trees made in a sleepless dream,as they shoot their roots through the mouth of misery.A twisted river that waters the fruitless trees,that feed only the tormented and tragic.

Even if the truth is quite differnt from a platitude,swimming lazily through empty drifts,of ordinary conversations,that I hear with the borrowed ear of a cynic.

Smile for the reason that produced it. Not for fear of failure in the tribe. Fear not the beast that gave birth to children reeking of opulence and entitlement.


A poem I wrote a few years back...during a period of no sleep.
I'm running on empty.

ftw!

-Paul

Another poem:

I walked out of the store my eyes wide open, pupils pulsating to the nauseous beat of my stomach,as it flipped and fluttered in a crystal meth like induced nacotic nervousness.

I tried swallowing,my tounge lay thick and dry,in the desert landscape of my mouth. The flames flickered brighter as I approached what once was my way around the world...or at least what,was my world. Work and the store and the places where my friends live.

2,232 dollars..8 hours making repairs.Numerous numbing hours at a dead end job and my Valentines Day anniversary.

Equal,a charred black car sitting under a bleak sodium light,dying in the reflection of an ember,from the last of a thousand cigarettes,that I smoked watching it burn.


Peace brotherdoobie

They don't even rhyme :snooty:

accountants...jeesh. :snooty:

-bd