Litkicks Message Board Archive

reminds me:

Posted to Poetry




The wind blows a restless lament-
reflection of the state I am in,
Sitting;
nothing other to do-
Watching him sleep
and trying to think
something peaceable
in my sleeplesness,
but those thoughts will never
find their way
thru the racing miles of veins
to my brain-
The final distillation, unreachable
and hardly acheived
by the masses of thoughts
which claw their way to the top
of my conciousness-
battle away
for a place the sun;
a spot in my eye-
An enviable existence
my mirror derides---------------------------------------

* verbiage - that's a great word