Phone Wires in Graves
Waiting for a phone call
Hoarding memories surrounding
A nest of sorrow
She's deep asleep
... I watch her...
She's
dreaming dreams of happy times but gone...
Busy walls with mounted smiles
A mute TV screen displaying a tragic comedy
Curtains shielding tears
Three phone devices that do not ring...
I must go back to my reality
I cry, she cries...
Our phones do not even sound busy...
Invisible wires of the soul crash in memories...
Thoughts Half-Submerged
Missing the Ocean of my Dreams
Got hooked on the Ephemeral Enigma...
Created was my own Universe in a man-made container
...Round but, Oh!... so Narrow...
My sooner or later corpse will become blue.
Ocean Blue???
or Black and blue...???
I rinse my brain with blue play-on-words
just to forget the Reality of seagulls dying in the sunset
prelude to the unavoidable fetal position...of Mortal Nakedness
San Diego / Ian.
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by Iolanda Scripca 1/10/2013 |
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