Flies

by zil

Posted to Poetry on 2002-08-30 01:18:00

Sometimes
I don’t feel like I exist
like a watcher ,an angel from heaven
an alien undercover
a germ in a vein
caught in the human game
the word game
thought game
a writer
a romantic
proletariat blue
I watch you people
scittering scattering
meandering through
lets not forget experience
weaving legend
molding myth
I’m not real
but I make you exist
creating universes
dreams ,yawns
every time I
look around I
feel as if I
am being told a secret
a good writer
thinks in feelings
not words
like a level head
is never as important
as an irrational heart
I’m a professional dreamer
and poems
nothing more
than grasping at flies