PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

Still close in the morning,

 still drunk from our dreams. stillborn, stubborn fantasies,

 and yet I still wait for screams. 

self esteem and dignity, walking on the wall, 

pass temptations garden, begging one to fall. 

Treading now so carefully, lets not wake the beast. 

I fear what May be clarity, rising from the east.

 I could have tore the whole house down while looking for the answer,

 had it not been for the fear of making truth grow faster.

 I like me how you like me cause you see what I see. 

I own no voice and made no choice it's in the air that i breathe

The radio foretold this end when broadcasting began, tragic notes of pseudo-feeling, making pictures in the ceiling. 

Straight into my favourite maze, where exit signs say "just a phase".

Grown sensible with age but no less blind.

 I run and run on these old knees, avoiding frailty of heart disease. The smoke I thought I caught, now rings in my mind