|existentialism ° art ° poetry ° exquisite corpse ° chat ° search engine|
|( the cry ) Philosophy Discussion Board|
Posted by Matt on Wednesday, March 26, 2003 at 13:30:48 :
The rain is aching into perspective.
Black holes made of water, sucking
Themselves into each other, like
Some tragic blue abyss.
I have this fantasy, you see.
The scene is set: a landscape, maybe
Roman, but nothing anywhere except
This distant rain, a liquid melancholy.
American rain, like in the films,
So pure, so blue, so completely
Perfect, and yet so undyingly
Fake. Just like plastic tears really.
And there's something glistening in
The corner of your vision, never
Knowing what to think, I presume it
Would be God, infringing on my dreams.
Suddenly I never want the rain to
End, I want to drown myself in
Nothingness, just turn around and
Surrender myself to the light.
I'm losing myself in this eternal
Dream, so beautiful, so fragile...
But it's so many galaxies away now and
I've lost it.
Still raining when I wake, the black
Holes explode back into perspective,
Realities collide into grey
Clouds, then fade to black.
I'm so lost--
more pretentious sixth-form poetry available at http://poetrypoem.com/sunsetatrocity
Post a Followup