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(no subject)
5 minutes
curb
rough road edge
clenched between my teeth
death is the taste of grit
sandpaper smooth to the touch
my tongue working
long strokes of the brush
painting every feeling of the day
onto
that went terribly. the last sentence was going to change it to graffiti. anyways...
10 minutes
bouquet
bouquet of bullets
springloads of fun
my nose burns with the impatience of gunpowder
thunder pierces the air
sound chasing light
bright flashes in the dark
fireflies at midnight
dancing in the trees
paparazzi flashes
carpet like thick uncut grass
searing heat burning flesh
shadow of the red cross looming
boots stepping on my grave
swaying in the hammock
i am lifted to the stirring of air and dust
the force pushes my eyes closed
voices shouting over the talk of engines
idle chatter amidst life and death
that one also went terribly. or at least it feels so. it certainly wasn't that long. i think my problem is i am thinking of times where i wrote more and felt more. john mayer said it's not "accumulative."
90 seconds
rain clouds
in a world of green and blue
how do skies become gray?
filled with dark omens
the ominous color of coming rain
billowing plumage of cumulous clouds
spread thick on the canvas of the overhead canopy
canopy? i think i just wanted to use that word. i don't know.
anyways. i have work. at the very least, i am being consistent.
curb
rough road edge
clenched between my teeth
death is the taste of grit
sandpaper smooth to the touch
my tongue working
long strokes of the brush
painting every feeling of the day
onto
that went terribly. the last sentence was going to change it to graffiti. anyways...
10 minutes
bouquet
bouquet of bullets
springloads of fun
my nose burns with the impatience of gunpowder
thunder pierces the air
sound chasing light
bright flashes in the dark
fireflies at midnight
dancing in the trees
paparazzi flashes
carpet like thick uncut grass
searing heat burning flesh
shadow of the red cross looming
boots stepping on my grave
swaying in the hammock
i am lifted to the stirring of air and dust
the force pushes my eyes closed
voices shouting over the talk of engines
idle chatter amidst life and death
that one also went terribly. or at least it feels so. it certainly wasn't that long. i think my problem is i am thinking of times where i wrote more and felt more. john mayer said it's not "accumulative."
90 seconds
rain clouds
in a world of green and blue
how do skies become gray?
filled with dark omens
the ominous color of coming rain
billowing plumage of cumulous clouds
spread thick on the canvas of the overhead canopy
canopy? i think i just wanted to use that word. i don't know.
anyways. i have work. at the very least, i am being consistent.