Monday, December 10, 2012

Life is a story waiting to be told


At night, my life’s energy burns through my skin. I try to sleep but keep waking up, kicking off the covers until the moisture dries and cools me with tranquility.
Growing more isolated, observing puppets in the grander scheme of events; aspiring, trying and expiring.

Out of sight out of mind.

He told me I had bedroom eyes. 
I said, “What does that mean?”
“They’re very sexy,” he said haltingly.
“How lame!” I exclaim, “at least you could comment on the color or say something about how the blue green color is unusual.”

The days pass in a whirl of appointments looking through strange windows.
Stringing along, smiling and singing a song; a pawn trying to escape with no superpowers or magic cape.
The moons gone astray and my minds lost all day. No one’s home minding the store. I stay to finish day after day between four walls closed in yet so far away.

Post a Comment
Blogcritics.org
 
Arts Blogs - Blog Top Sites