ninestars

Do the see the world as a poem

Do you see it like I do?

Do the words slip through your fingers

Do they slip before you can open your eyes?

Do they slip like I did

thin veins rush through with

green blood and water. As if,

yearning for full boom.

We manifest our fear in our hands, as physical things; sometimes it pricks at our skin and leaves marks, sometimes it results in stiff fingers, cracking from a stiffened clench.

Somewhere far away, just far enough away that you won’t find it, there is a highway that goes on forever.  Driving down that highway at 75 miles an hour, is a car that will never run out of gas.