Monday, March 1, 2010

The noise trots and readies to gallop
Prying and prying that I don’t wanna feel
I pray if not silence but at least white noise
But the wall of play smirks and stops none

If I could would sleep away to kingdom come
Let it run its course soothed away
But my head expands beyond gore
As the horizontal seems to activate it more

My pupil stares ahead and goes side to side
Reality strikes what I have is what I don’t
I look for an answer with which I can stop
And thoughts went to the bauble blower’s art

My head feels heavy and my feet runs cold
a wondrous ache covers me from head to toe
i hold the blower’s pride but my head says no
and the soaring bird comes crashing down

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