Tuesday, September 16, 2014

Left Alone

there's this sound
like gurgling brook
and gentle rapids
clean mountain
spring, my window
at night
street light
seeping in
half moon
lazy turned up on
it's side
butter cup
shining silver
jets streak in black
sky crack silents
generator hurls
last bit of life
water still running,
feel it in my fingers
drilling sound through
my ears, clock ticking
and I am thinking to
no one is sleeping house
all full but empty
no words before breaths
no open eyes
but mine reddening
yellowed and tired
and old now
something that
shouldn't be,
cleansed by invisible
fountain, I'd like to
find my youth and innocence
and most of all ignorance,
my connection to
the still world outside
in here I listen to phantom
sounds, mysterious oasis,
questioning if what
I'm hearing is real.

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