What I like about this space: the anonymity. I just write what I want to write, without any danger of criticism - I have a fragile heart/ego, you feel, not see.
Years Passing
angry with the years
passing not revealing
till now how little i know
even now i don't know
what they will know
but what i should have known:
a balding head may shine
does not make clarity
on truths
Untitled
Father once said, don't
say you are nothing,
you are everything
like me. Ice cubes
thundered to meet
prune lips. Eyeballs
rowed away in dreamy
mist. Leaving me
an ice statue
quietly cracking.
P.S.: I surprised myself with the ending. Not entirely satisfied with the end-product - can't find a better phrase than "prune lips", "Eyeballs" only works because it rhymes with "Ice" - but I am, after all, a WIP.
4 am
a night bird waves
his pipe like hands
conductor of the dark
silence is the musicians
the world tiptoes closer
to its end
i am the last man.
P.S.: I think I took half an hour to edit this again and again....
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