miercuri, 2 octombrie 2013

Dripping clouds

revelation of the day:
Noah is alive and challenged,
only his ark appears to be
merely a sunken ship now

my lungs are soaked
in this filthy,weeping weather
and breathing is a chore
of misplaced tears

the few flowers I can find
are on my pillowcase,
while the sole lighthouse in this silent storm
resides in noble miracles
on the ceiling-
I could just swear the mold in my mind
has blossomed into royal crowns
of angry despair

the wind-a howl
that brands your cheeks
with crimson
the people-faulty pawns
with fleeting perspectives
of damned redemption
myself-a sullen ghost
which the past would

the clouds are dripping endlessly
and Noah fled the scene-
we're humidly doomed

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