Our friend slept off and empty dreams took over
Solemn the man who draws lines on our patient feet
Around paths dragged by speed and impossible presence
Exits not mine to offer, roads he rests on freely
How is your sleep my loneliness?
Walls have sprayed and eyes rest upon spreading oranges
Tumbling down corridors, escalating logically his steps
The little person in the back room breathes respect
For his acquaintance with a number which could be his
Own person Own reason Own eye
Who is lonely looking?
I spectater and fictioner, prince of randomness, lucking up on down
If expressions be alowed... The man above or the man beneath
Earth or its wings sitting inches beneath you - within you
Looks are a lonely choice, our ground a broken paradise.
A moment that lasts for long, I forget who is spectating who
Forgotten is the word for signs who leap back in our mirror of curiosity
Easy words to accompany strange invisible caps tied to our backs
And lingering at the feet of some angel long forgotten and long lost
What can be hidden
No comments:
Post a Comment