Untitled 1

Swimming through the sky on this magical limp sheet 

Surrounded by air but none to breathe 

Wading through the pond of faces, about yay deep

Drowning in the puddles left for me. 

People packed tightly and always moving, 

Yet empty and scarce— a sour pitch from tuning 

echoing through my bones.

For how can one be so alone 

while surrounded by so many souls?

Untitled 2 ►

Comments

No comments posted yet.

If you wish to post a comment you must login.

This site uses cookies. By continuing to browse, you are agreeing to our use of cookies.

Find out more Hide this message