Saturday, June 18, 2011

Ancient Loneliness

Everything you take is like a photograph.
Now I have nothing left.

No more angles, no more stories, no more positions or movement.

I am solid. A staue gone unidolized in a crowd at a museum.

They forgot what I am made of,
They forgot my name.

Everything captured, has not been emptied. 

A build up of raging cells in a volcano stir and erupt in my brain.
And when I dream, I can't wake up.
I have to face the monsters I've been shielding all day long.

3 comments:

Unknown said...

hey! time for a happy post... again......?

Brittany said...

I can't promise that.

Unknown said...

wil wait. :)

the truth about freedom

The space between inhale and exhale the space between stars fill up with air, and collapse into dust I walk a sunlit path and breath...