sâmbătă, 16 februarie 2013

Walking and walking

you've seen me once,you've seen my all-
silly eyes,dirty boots,the way in which
I nibble my lips and awkwardly sway
my hips-a patched up work of art
that catches your eyes,but seldom
your heart.

I like to walk-it's so simple,yet
so raw-one foot in front
of the other,a miracle in the making,
a way to get lost in thought,
to simply get lost...

there's days when I have to count
to 10 in order for my feet
to obey and my heart
to slow down and my mind
to stop projecting funerals and
pain and plain loneliness on
a white screen behind my
it's OK,it's OK,it's all OK...
it's OK to not get what you want,
like a dress or a kiss or a life
alike something that would've
come from Van Gogh's hands.

you've seen me once,you've seen my all-
hazel stare,bluish hands,the way in which
I struggle with my mind and painfully smother
my thoughts-a peculiar little creature
that you might like,but fail
to understand.

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