Red veins lay
like rivers and streams
on the whites of my eyes,
winding their lazy way
across small earths of white.
They twist and twitch,
I rub and itch- night
comes creeping
ever steady, and they
cannot fight it.
Me and my crazy sleep patterns.
C'est la vie.
I like writing poetry. Not all of it is going to be a historical epic or an ode to something. These are like little glimpses of the subway in my mind; my train of thought isn't always artsy or symbolic or deep or meaningful, but I like to think that art takes ordinary things and makes people see a sort of beauty in them. So, look around- I've been doing this for a while. Enjoy ♥
1 comment:
the riverstreamearth imagery is wonderful. and it leads me to the weariness of winter... hopefully your sleep gets back to normal, or better at least. (mine is on the fritz lol.)
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