9 Mar 2011

or the darkness becomes drunk on our despair
as shadows whisper in fleeting rhymes of primitive emotion
time gropes our faces for any change in moment…

now we are anywhere, existing in an anonymous future tragedy
nothing happens, and thus dies the world
softly to tread on the bodies of heroes, listening for nightlife
to have lost our secrets in encyclopedias of dust…

did we forget what we were told in our imaginary childhood?
even in lies we bobbed for words in oblivion
even in failure were scars that traced the blood of chance
did we die in the could that we did not?
a voiceless past to silently judge the potential no one tapped…

write! we the day in motions of what we reach for:
we may to thirst as light to find a medium for our discovery;
or the darkness becomes drunk on our despair…

posted by John H. Doe @ 11:38 am

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