Grapple          here
in                    vines
where             dampness
is                    breath,
and                 crystal             futures
paint               cold                metaphors
onto                leaking           minds.

The                constant
dull                 drip
vacates          to
memories       or
make             believe,           both
elsewhere,     and                 without
the                 dynamism       of

Written  Jan 2013.... It's better to be breathing, moving, living, grappling with and growing through the difficult  and uncomfortable things in life than  attempting to exist in the safety shell of memories or pretence and remaining static.


Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Her Fingers

The Vine and the Branches

A Writer's Paradise