Author Information
Space
Folder:
Old I need three lines of space
To color your face.
Not six or so far
Or I lose your taste.
Yes, yes, you're chaste...
Against backdrops of white.
This shining white light
Beams thin through a glass
Of terminal plight.
And yes, yes, it was quite... the fight...
What little gets in
I grasp with a grin
So tightly confined
My cranium spins.
But yes, yes, for but a moment, I am free again...
I am free like the night
In its wondrous darkness and awe inspiring might.
Taking perilous flight.
Devouring every single sight
While breaking all in my way.
Shatter patterns found only in day.
This is quite a foray
Into the madness of black, yet out of gray.
If a bit incoherent it all must sound
Know that you are not taking it in as it is found.
For you are bound
To something utterly inane yet renowned
For it's silencing sound
I despise being around.
But soon anyhow, I will again touch ground.
Still, how I hope I never come down...
But it's late and night fades.
Slowly in comes the day
With it's strictest of ways
On just how I should say
All the things that I may
Or may not think today...
