The first page of a new anthology
I hear the sound of my favorite words
Like art, music and photography.
I see the footprints of my past and thoughts.
Feeling of excitement from my fingertips
The words of understanding from my bare lips.
I can'...
Just yesterday, I remoulded my clay Crying alone, like the rain That storms again and again Bleeding ink as I think, Washing another bottle of champagne Down my throat that wouldn't complain
Just yesterday, I couldn't sleep a wink or lay For all the thoughts in me, Were draining me. While alcohol tasted like water Cocaine took form of sugar And there I was With nothing to discuss Sitting with my veins bleeding And my eyes, weeping Like someone insane I read all I've written And realized it's all inane.
***
Just in case, you'll realize this poem makes no sense but, the writer was able to describe his crazy feelings.
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