the rain pours down a fog
in blankets, pillows, and sheets
transparent against false memory
that time, when I was still dreaming
if only I could remember
the rain pours down a fog
in blankets, pillows, and sheets
cold against me(n)tal corners
these false memories are not mine
if only they all went away
a second time, I reach out
a second time, I touch nothing
and the rain pours down in fog
in blankets, pillows, and sheets
I, once again, am alone
Did you write that? It's a pretty spiffy poem, it's just the way I like it too, abstract and melancholy. You should post some more, and I'll try to post some of mine.
Posted by: Ugly Pink Machine at September 28, 2002 01:47 PM