"I'm out of breath, my eyes like a worn out and incomplete mosaic, blurs and swirls of blue and gray. My eyes so heavy, the tears i cry feel like paint to me, the paint that i used to paint that picture on my canvas at home in the window sill next to the record player, so heavy and cold
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Falling like melted winter snow, dripping down my face. I begin to walk this road full of bones, filled with old phone calls i never wanted to answer. I was uncertain but now i think i feel like i was just lazy. I cover my ears at the sound of familiar tones, i never wanted to isolate my uncertain reality but my mind won't let me stop these bad habits."
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misty eyes, silent cries || poetry ;
Poetryoriginal poetry i've written for the past few months, that seem relevant.
