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
Wasted

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
Again


Mikie

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.