deepundergroundpoetry.com

Toss my Mood

 
 
Mirror'd on mire  
swamp stain green,  
clings my reason to sprout seed.  
In conjured moods  
I guard loose thought.  
grind-stone stand in bold set spot.  
 
Won't move- on stubborn  
nor skip, on whine.  
Still place my palm  
...upon the die.  
 
Blow-kissed for luck,  
I roll from tips-  
of finger itched by moody fits.  
 
Slow tumble-bump,  
green velvet yields-  
A push to burden,  
yearn flow fills.  
 
Exclamation point,  
in shiny hue.  
die casts a shadow  
'pon my two.
 
Reworking my 'already burn'  
Gone blues, for missing you.

Written by darksighs
Published | Edited 20th Jul 2015
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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