wanting everything yet running away from it, such torture a self can give a sensation for each — How is it for you?
By Jui Hanabout a year ago in Poets
Light they seem they carry a weight not seen no hands that can hold, feet to move on places untold stood still in peace as seasons passed,
picture painted sight of a blur blur it may be but truth it could is it mine or is it yours? forbid, am I to touch either?
A sunset view inside this rusty black bars my left held too tight — held long enough right at rest, holding a leftover sandwich
There is sorrow in the morning rays light up as the sunrise but it was never a praise Feet can’t move as cold seeps in
Some will give some will take some are sweet but they forsake Standing still on crowded sides chests are out painting sights
Lock it up or lock it in rusty metals scourging in picked up keys on man-made holes wounded sick by secrets untold
Don’t let it run away from us Things we feel when the rays touch our hands Was it the other way? “it” touching or as we intend to — we do.
Mom took me here. “Here is better”, she said. a place with two beds and non-else and where food comes from above — obviously
Walls are high on a self-reign street no crowd to applaud the steps mere effort, chuckles in silence — even then it pierces through.
Stuck — a smooth echo To straighten a bent spoon, what to say? Admirable. Clap but carry a knife — a very sharp knife. Why?
chills creep in, thoughts — my thoughts? loud thunder a sage signal Run! Now, go, faster! I have nothing more than a second
