zrofyre

RED The clock  glares at me  stares at me reaches with neon glow grasping with the  slow          slow       slow encroaching rim of red. The clocks dim presence pulls itself up with stealth sinking stop sign      red into the mounds of bed   clothes      covering my body. I feel the slight weight the presence, my hate- giving substance, form, intent,  to the inaudible clicking   turning, flipping,    of each number    over the other. The imminent progression of time, without      concession to my weary mind.  3:09 The numbers progress, following the slow  monotone drone o

"So Many Things" by Melissa Young Pure element, unpretentious H20 to life, ink to inspiration myriad forms ever changing     misting over the mind,     brittle chunks of cold stabbing deep into the heart     pooling, building up, swelling,     overflowing in an outpouring of images A calm, still pool, deep reserves buried under the silvery surface, reflecting     unplumbed depths with buried     meanings, subtle ripples, nuances White crested waves of words     crashing, lifting, falling,          relentlessly bombarding the mind bobbing along, caught up a bit of driftwood within the rapid     stream of co