Alphabet Soup Minuscule

J.C. Scheff

Rusted Souvenir’s

Numbness creeps in, slowly
As if it was the air.
Fingers folded together,
Restless, empty.

A pumpkin colored sun hides it rays.
A dented can,
As odorous rotten brew drips.

Words invisible.
A closed mouth, held tightly together.
Turns a different shade of grey.

A knot develops,
Thick like agate.
A sour taste-

One rusted souvenir,
Floating softly,
Hidden among leaves,
Of the same color

As hour’s slip past,
Like a cool wind-
Eyes closed, just to be with you…


Single Post Navigation

Leave a Reply

Please log in using one of these methods to post your comment: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s

fuck the lemonade

when life gives you lemons #fuckthelemonade make art instead

Perfect Chaos

God's Perfect Purpose in a Chaotic World

SouL SpeakS

He started Writing, The paper started speaking...

poetics~cool out of the rafters

what goes in must come out!!

%d bloggers like this: