It explodes in his head,
And collides within the blank.
A subtle feeling,
Growing more amusing.
Spinning and turning,
Gazing around.
A sharp infliction,
Upon the flesh.
A color,
Makes itself apparent.
Soft,
Growing,
Like branches,
Reaching out,
Beckoning him.
His name,
Hunger.
It calls him,
The itch.
Such enjoyment.
Such excitement.
His fingers twitch,
Wrapped around,
Warm again.
Colliding once,
Dropping twice.
A sudden blow,
Knock out.
They are no more.
But a color,
He sees,
He dreams,
Sees eyes,
Eyes of wonder,
Wonders of a world,
A world where he is a lot,
He is above.
No more hiding,
No more sighing,
And no more whining.
He could,
Be all.
Or he could,
Be none.
Such color,
Reflects his heart,
Reflects his deepest
Desires.
He wishes it all,
Crawls to the top,
But falls,
At the tug of a monster.
Shouting,
Kicking,
Beating.
But it doesn't stop,
And doesn't drop him,
Because he,
He rises again,
To take a poll.
In a room of wideness.
Squared shoulders,
Pessimistic eyes,
And funny faces.
With little heart kisses,
Outlines their misses.
Will he strike,
Or fall to the white,
Surrending his red.
YOU ARE READING
Poems
Şiir"The universe kissed the stars, who birthed a galaxy of new beginnings." The only way to express beautiful and cynical thoughts is through the delightful invention of simple, and yet complex, poetry. My poems never end, have no defined theme and st...
