deepundergroundpoetry.com
The Bitch and Bastard for Walking Away - Part III
Breathing Underwater
The weather has left me speechless. This slow wash into the harvest peels layers of air. Three down, who am I now?
That's a difficult reach. In any case, reflection isn't a branch to grasp, and ripples are distortions of the past. I no longer recognize sense as property, but this sinking feeling seems to belong.
A piping hot hook between sand and surface fizzles on a wispy lifeline. It's consumed for eventual suffocation when called to answer. I promise of every ounce in motion that hangs in this moment, questions are vain.
This isn't home, but a passage that doesn't seem to end until counted on. How many will never be full?
Looking around, I see a forest of dangling delicacies. All are slow-swinging above a black hole.
And as I remain quiet, I realize my most precious sacrifice.
The weather has left me speechless. This slow wash into the harvest peels layers of air. Three down, who am I now?
That's a difficult reach. In any case, reflection isn't a branch to grasp, and ripples are distortions of the past. I no longer recognize sense as property, but this sinking feeling seems to belong.
A piping hot hook between sand and surface fizzles on a wispy lifeline. It's consumed for eventual suffocation when called to answer. I promise of every ounce in motion that hangs in this moment, questions are vain.
This isn't home, but a passage that doesn't seem to end until counted on. How many will never be full?
Looking around, I see a forest of dangling delicacies. All are slow-swinging above a black hole.
And as I remain quiet, I realize my most precious sacrifice.
Published 15th Nov 2019
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
likes 1
reading list entries 1
comments 1
reads 316
Commenting Preference:
The author encourages honest critique.
a house is never a home unless there is love honor or respect for a seed doesnt have too be yours to love them him or her as your own for after all its not their fault that they were born for your most sacrifice was your child when its over said and done...respect
