Tuesday, November 9, 2010

Sound

My lungs take in the langruous midnight terrace air.That memory is a stab of November goosebumps.
My eyes are sleepy.That face is a splash of cold water, arousing me and evaporating into nothingness.
My fingers are bruised from the nail-biting.That name is a disappearing act through the cracks of my clenched fist.
My heart is a memory.You are the inferno kindled within me,its tongue growing with every step I take.

Tick-tock goes my feet.
Pitter-patter runs these tears.
Lub-dub beats every second I get closer to beating you at your own game....