this is
not a
linear
narrative
but you
won't print
anything I've
written
you don't print anything I'd read
there's colors faded
into the past and I am
a child listening
to the tv static
watching the final
rainbow broadcast
at 4am
alone in the dark I have found
I am the last boy on earth
this is why I can't sleep
no one
is sure
enough
to tell
me this
isn't true
even the rust covered sentries that guard my
bedroom door,
a stage coach enters scene right
there, where tea and cookies will be served
in 16-bit reality
I am falling forward behind everything,
I'll never catch up to the end
it's all a gnawing circle
placed over my iris
turning ever steady, ever onward.
No comments:
Post a Comment