The whole concept, the whole aim
wrapped tightly in wire basket woven dream
leaving nothing left to imagine
except numbers and lines;
codes drifting in and out of reality
and virtual tenses past and present
gone horribly awry, aware of blisters
grown faster on brains drum destructed.
Sunday, May 29, 2011
Poem-A-Day: Day 563
Cycle 11
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment
Drop a line, a quip, a snippet, your pants, or an anecdote...just don't drop the soap.