Saturday, May 2, 2009

This... is not me

This is a place with silver-white skies, light as aluminum.

Circling below the reflections of the sun, paper doves.

Fragile fluid runs through the cracks, the sun, she fades.

And a thought occurs... this is not me.


Once a notion of a shell, another time; of individuality,

Nothing remains, " and truth be told ", this is not me.


Outside the skies, there is another home, with life.

White incandescence, shimmering alone. so brilliant.

Will it save him? perhaps.

There is an escape, after all, burn the passage to light the way

but he has to be careful, for he dare not return, to the fray


He must party with hope and part with the hopeless.

To find a way, to find a way.

Over and over in his head, to find a way.

There is hope. how long? how long till he must continue to say...


"This is not me"

1 comment:

Alina Lodhi said...

Interesting. Shows you're living a pseudo-existance in the mean time perhaps?