The Straightest Blade
trembling t'wards dawn's path today
anorexic pale horizons lay
starved of light, of hope
sans by your leave or come -
I cried, i sighed
'oh.. stay with me
please.. please.. pleas ..
hold my emptiness'
pale yellow sheets became worn grey
presumption rinsed of five o'clock -
an' rain tapped impatient fingers 'pon the glass
of this unlovely lonely world -
frayed, dismayed
ere sun hung kaleidoscopic dun in space
there's a sense of do or die
do we colour thoughts to match
the day.to.day mis-harmony
an' make sweet music in the mind?
methinks there's too much out of focus
out of everything..
'tis all a mystery to me
when praise turns back on favour in the viewer's lens
whilst retribution earns reward
am losing the here and where
and there..
losing the straightest path you've ever drawn
see.. blade sharp it is
unbeautiful though to the nth degree -
'that figures', muses mathematician playing tunes
'pon acoustic ancient abacus -
dementia determined by gnarled digits
ruled by graphics all phrased
by dull already dead modernity
rapt in unsubtle sublimity - smiling..
blind to the tasteless tug of where to leave
before arrival,
day fadea into a pit of anxiety -
a hole in the space of where once lived
a welcome beam to those
destined to crash the rocks
an' finish as I've become
lost in the now and then..
again
Copyright © Emma Green | Year Posted 2016
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