In My Hands

-
I've got that race in my blood
Wishing for a marathon

Heart pumping fierce unadulterated
surging forward on pointed toes

Gleeful eyes, crazed eyes
a little too wild for their tastes

But I've got the playing cards in my hands
Red and black and mine

So I guess I'll play along
Games can be fun when you know
what you're doing.

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

The Sfumato or the Mosaic

-
The melting pot the nation of the out and the in people with almond eye with the ebony skin with hair of gold with hands of white do they mix into a flag of many colors or do they segregate into blocky separates where the canvas is a mosaic divided and yet a whole picture or is it a sfumato where everything blends and nothing is individual but it's a color unlike any the world has ever seen?
Read more

Pathos

-
So the equilibrium is no more The surface tension has been broken What was once the glory days Is now nothing more than memory And filtered photos on your phone How often do you look at those I wonder And wish for when hearts were untouched by paranoia? I can't say when the frost began creeping in Seizing your soul and rendering you immobile To the machinations of inevitable separation We were too much like flint and flint Grinding against each other Until the sparks began to fly You took it too far and they were terrified Of seeing the monster inside the darkness that was you They say that it was a forgivable misstep And they smile and soothe but their eyes aren't quite meeting yours And the sinking of your heart is like an axe head in water Only there is no one to make it resurface again Their path diverges from yours It's a split road, one leading into an endless plain They say that you can't follow, and they hold you clos...
Read more

Light and Dark. A Love Story.

-
He first saw her, laughing, with her companions. He never ventured out much, and lurked in his world, living alone, watching. Until today. She was bright. Her eyes. Her hair. Even her voice was clear and light, laughing so it sounded musical. The wind played with her skirts, enveloping her slim body until it was wrapped in diaphanous clouds. She was holding flowers in her hands, leaning in to smell the fragrance, her lips parted in a soft sigh. He started a little, catching his breath, and she saw him. What did he look like to her? A dark figure, wrapped in darkness? A young man, thrown out by his heartless family, reduced to this? She looked into his eyes, and he read them, They were full of fear, a little awe, and slight pity. He had retreated back into his forest. He did not want to be pitied. But he was lonely. Apparently the brighter woods were her favorite retreat, and she often frequented the place, along with her companions, who brought blankets and baskets. They wil...
Read more