Sunday, August 17, 2008


My words wither on parched lips;
Clouds on clouds roll down to eyes
And all around a grey unfolds
That coils me tight in shabby smoke.

The figures melt to messy blobs
And drag me down to turbid pools.

I float awhile with weary lids,
Dripping down with vacant dreams
Which wrap me up in growing rings
And to silence swiftly fade.

1 comment:

Sui Generis said...

m lost for words!! what an expression abs!!...awesome use of imagery n objective correlatives