deepundergroundpoetry.com
Room#7
I swallow reality and wait for the trip.
Comfort to cold,
and cold to oblivion...
The tiny comets of emotion
leave trails that form a masterpiece of definition...
Where I can move within the artwork...
though never become a part of it.
They'll find me in the words left
in the attic of where I last lived.
Scan the pages,and toss them in the box marked"to throw away.
"When they've cleared enough room for the next one to reside,
at least leave behind a piece of paper...
and something to write with.
Comfort to cold,
and cold to oblivion...
The tiny comets of emotion
leave trails that form a masterpiece of definition...
Where I can move within the artwork...
though never become a part of it.
They'll find me in the words left
in the attic of where I last lived.
Scan the pages,and toss them in the box marked"to throw away.
"When they've cleared enough room for the next one to reside,
at least leave behind a piece of paper...
and something to write with.
Published 12th Dec 2012
| Edited 3rd Dec 2014
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 854
Commenting Preference:
The author encourages honest critique.
12th Dec 2012 7:34pm
I'd like to read it in short sentence/stanza format; but that's just me :)
I especially liked:
The tiny comets of emotion leave trails that form a masterpiece of definition...Where I can move within the artwork...though never become a part of it.
Very emotional.
I especially liked:
The tiny comets of emotion leave trails that form a masterpiece of definition...Where I can move within the artwork...though never become a part of it.
Very emotional.
13th Dec 2012 8:03am
thanx...I repeated that line over and over like a psychopath,for 2weeks after I wrote it.
