Wednesday, August 19, 2009

Freewheeling


Questions hang over me,

like dark viscous rain

I want to know light.

Parked beneath benches,

of normalcy,

I wait to go insane.

More beyond the boundaries,

I wait to feel,

on the palm of my hand,

The story of your tears.

On a silent,

sad afternoon of sun,

I want to lie down,

till the sky touches down to earth.

In your slowing forming smile,

housed in nicotine burns,

I wait to fall asleep.

When someone calls,

searching for me in the past,

Tell them I vapourised,

into another time,

placed gently within the silence of your womb.

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