here i am again
livin in sin

Neither hot nor cold;
an indifferent time of year.
Only squirrles and the sun
share my moment here.
No laughter echoes hauntingly,
No shadows lead astray,
Only concrete, glass, and time
share my memory.
Its a disquieting sort of solitude;
only two steps from the world.
The road, unraveled, lies beyond,
my thoughts lie unfurled.
Can he, a dragonfly,
know past moments spent,
discretely watching,
knowing what each meant?
~Sam
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Concrete, glass, and time. I'm curious what relationship those three things share and why you used them. I'd like to know what you were thinking when you wrote this poem. I can sense that there's a profound meaning behind it, and yet I can't quite grasp it. *Michelle* southernangel728@aol.com
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doing what i can, think its right
still i’m feeding you the leaves of despair
it’s not quite in sight
the right thing, i mean
i was scared of you, i watched my other life drowning
i couldn’t mold to you, like a fucking rubrics cube
couldn’t tell you what i had in mind
wrong way sign behind, you kept on driving
so why, if the colors never matched?
and how, if all you got was scratched?
the pinching cubes twisting you, why?
i had a disease that my head couldn’t sort
all i could do was live
it’s not what i intended to give, to you
you know i sat alone in your lap
i pushed block past block
as you crawled along an idaho map
maybe the snow you saw
made me raw
maybe i couldn’t breath the air you breathed
but it was my disease, my disease
and all along you felt my song
so why prolong the shit i dealt out
i’m bleeding, i can’t ask you for help
Cannon D.