Fall from the bread line
into a weight
of waiting, of waits for a time
I cannot remember.
I suppose the story goes
never lead your heart, forget here.
You could proof read the script,
you could see the tornado of a mind
thought that seems hopeless without the moves
- not knowing what to do without me.

In the quiet, when mental adventures are futile
and I'm coughing up blood into a bowl
fear strokes me, though I presume it's more
like a needle scratching skin and leaving
traces of evidence.

Fuck knows, I'm high
I sign out from responsibility of
spelling or grammar or even a good topic
I take no responsibility for losing control.
Written by ImperfectedStone (The Gardener)
Published | Edited 22nd Nov 2011
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
likes 2 reading list entries 0
comments 2 reads 737
Commenting Preference: 
The author encourages honest critique.

Latest Forum Discussions
27th January 2023 11:35pm by PoetSpeak
27th January 2023 7:26pm by Morbs
27th January 2023 7:16pm by Rianne
27th January 2023 5:41pm by J_J_Jay_Jr
27th January 2023 3:21pm by da_poetic-edifier
27th January 2023 2:35pm by Rianne