3poems2 - white walls, ONeTWo3, random 7
white walls Enough white paint can only cover the stains, The walls whisper what it remembers, They talk; youve just stopped listening to its broken symphony Far from bitter sweet, like a meeting I had today Prompted by a raven tentatively observing me, limping, Passively through the remnants, yesterdays infrastructure, Crumbling in superstition, Counting on rusted cans over what we cant afford, To waste Concentration to its detriment, my eyes follow his in step Scope creeping, losing features of its essence, He didnt smile, I might call it a grimace He asked me to hold my empathy, in piercing glances, I lit a cigarette, scratching that itch My defect Whispering He saw something in me, a thought, I was the one that deserves pity Looking down on me until he was well enough away I left, soon there after, limping, Through the drags Letting my soul carry off the breeze Still rustling the pile of empty cans and leaves One, two, 3 One, Theyre somethings that I dont know, like the end of the world, the leading steps how some shit is combined and altered, the process of an alerted monochrome. Blinking my life, only as good as the breath we breathe of the sex we shove down the hearts of the innocence, please, tell me the secrets of your soul, it takes less effort then for you to not it takes more effort then I have to give, or the resembles it to the wind, you arent as interesting. Two The girls in a mini skirt And ear piecing sirens, distractions Forgetting the important of the journey drinks abundantly too sweet For we have less of a life but the life we choose hold I value trash having more then the treasures of the world Its not bold or the stout after the life of the old Experienced, I though I loved you once When the wind was quite and the trees danced when they felt compelled Tell me whats interesting, Ill default to the just tell me whats on your mind. I create to give you a place to find yourself Together at last, a cheapening reunion Three 3 three I be fuck like the tress with shotgun status in the cars that go miles but got far away from the state to become apart of something beautiful in the works, The way the perks try to squirt in the dirty-handsome-plausible-comradely More money, more problems, more sex, more sex, more se. more fucking i cant believe that this is something of a thought with evaporation of concentration and your mom thinks I look cute with these socks, and I think shes the best, or may the worst, she makes good scrambled babies, but I woke up still feeling the night before so I cant be sure in these mornings of the sunny disposition, the sunny depression, the sunny suggestive the(a) the(a) THE. Random 7 I shuffle along side the wrong side of whatever tracks you clamed define us. More worried about the train marks the diesel engine sparks, If the wisdom is all thats given, the flame will only be a flame And if we cant work the flint to make it start, the whats its worth? Well, what about the matches? Or the cigarettes, the burns, a flame retarded mattress, Information exchanged, well this is my permanent e-mail address Wear these iron mask, as to not to have to face the faceless past If I were to string somber days I just might know where Im at Was, have been. Hands of blurred burnt cellophane clarity of where I will be. Its the things we can see, I mean What has been seen can not be unseen someone smarter then me said with a feeling to much like affinity with m eyes indispose I replied in my head beaming If youve seen what Ive seen youd make an effort to keep your eyes clean.
Added: Nov 21, 2008; Author: newcomposition; Duration: 7:25; Views: 102' favoriteCount='2
Tags: less love newcomposition of poem poetry something then you