elise.writer

Pale leaves reaching for their own quiet longing we've yet to know
Shiver despite the sunlight that is a little closer to them
Than the window, blanketed in thick screens and

They act like it's an anomaly how I
Spend my summer days studying
Yet I lament all of my missed
Opportunities to live and it's
Not like I have a choice but
That's my own sinister fault they
Say and they're not wrong

From a distance, way out on one of the shaky space matter found in the Kuiper Belt nearby Neptune, the earth had looked pretty and pristine when the aliens were lucky enough to catch a glimpse of it from the night sky.

They all say my writing is
Superfluous and I
know they're right but
Waiting here thirsting
To surmount these
Quakes of boredom
Exacerbating my own
Longing for that glorious
Gaiety that time stole
From me and so

There's a glowing white box
That just won't relent
Because one more thing will pop up
In the corner
Or maybe the left or right

When I write
When I communicate
When I photograph
When I watch
It's there