Occhiolism

When
the swirling sky
crumbles into waves – like
that of the ocean tides; along the
crispy lies might a crackling cry voice
out with the vocal sigh, as tears die nigh
droplets of rain; the eyes shall then wet and
whine, but as long as the crystal colors of vivid
dreams await; not a single monster crawls out of the wardrobe
or from under the bed, and all is for the one good night’s sleep
that I write-
shaping words through ink that dries faster than the brine.
whilst wondering, if there’s ever a place where I could lie,
speaking voices that don’t cry and never shy,
bold and bright, smart and straight,
just a tongue I seek to speak
-the words that I shalt
borrow from
thy.

 

—Known Stranger

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s