Sunday, September 11, 2011

The smell of the ocean and the ancients overwhelms my senses

What was this life once lived by a previously reincarnated Me

This clean sweet sewer of nostalgia, you who flood my ears
Why does this parking lot make me so terribly sad,

Too refined and belittled

What have I become but a disembodied embroidery belaying
The breast of barely baked busts in the cold, unsettling afternoon.

It's time for me to be Me
I miss the great white
The serious and free
Give me this ocean breeze again
But promise me eternity
And I will bleed what years you
Need for drink
So drink
My tears
And let me be free


1 comment:

Papa Dan said...

Mikie I am not much on poetry,and I'm not even sure you meant it to be a poem, but especially the 11 lines at the end of this blog; I like.