It is midnight and I am getting a haircut on the lawn.
I am tired, but I shiver with excitement.
Gentle hands tug and snip at my curls,
And as they fall they take root in the grass.
I will never remember this happening to me,
Save for lonely forgotten dreams and
The strange feelings of Deja Vu that I feel
Any time I go to the barber shop.
My very favorite poem is an inarguably terrible one. I do not know its name and do not care to find out if it has a name.
The sun is pink, and the sky is green on the day that I am standing knee deep in perfectly still salt water. The tired marble floor of heaven is finally dissolving beneath my feet.
I looked up at the statue, and it looked down at me.
There we stood, unhappy wretches.
Comments
Log in or register to post comments.