At some point, the laughing stops and paranoia sets in.
His room is small. It's like a cage, and, even the
Sight of the heartless high-rise buildings, solid,
Sullen sky, beyond its window make a pen.
Everything's hideous. Nothing can change,
As the man with the rap on the radio says,
And this man reaches me in the pen that I made
In the place where I went when I ran from that
Room. Everything's hideous. Nothing can
Change. He looks up. He's hearing me breathe.
Poetry by Lawrence Beck
Read 25 times
Written on 2011-03-21 at 21:12
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Cannabis
I can hear him breathing, hear what he's thinking.His room is small. It's like a cage, and, even the
Sight of the heartless high-rise buildings, solid,
Sullen sky, beyond its window make a pen.
Everything's hideous. Nothing can change,
As the man with the rap on the radio says,
And this man reaches me in the pen that I made
In the place where I went when I ran from that
Room. Everything's hideous. Nothing can
Change. He looks up. He's hearing me breathe.
Poetry by Lawrence Beck
Read 25 times
Written on 2011-03-21 at 21:12
Save as a bookmark (requires login) Write a comment (requires login) Send as email (requires login) Print text| Texts |
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