0.00
(0 votes)
You must login to vote
|
|
|
All the water is gone.
No fish left in the pond.
Sodas are all off the shelf.
Maybe my last breath to myself.
What will become of me ?
Only the taste of the salts from the seas.
My baby needs some milk.
Then some walk by, pass in silk.
I am past the point of crying.
Past the point of shying.
Cast upon an empty earth.
All the cities, an abortion of birth.
Last night I had a dream.
The earth was empty, left only me.
I sat on a lonely rock to cry.
Only to drink the tears from my eyes.
from my poetry book DREAMS 2
------
SCRATCHES ON THE PAGE,
MAKING NOISE
|
GAMBLE HOLLYWOOD STYLE
