Strings fade

A blue screen is a new screen
And a red screen is a dead screen
Confusion lives somewhere in between
You roam it by nighttime, collecting
and sorting leaves for the future free
Where a haunted house is nothing

But a used up factory
Crickets sing a one way ticket
Pick it up, lick it, and stick it to
Your forehead
Or the pistons will pump it into
your tombstone three thousand eons
After you're dead

The shells have been picked up
And listened to carefully
The stars have connected in
an oceanless melody
And you'll still collect leaves
for a makebelief future free




Poetry by lou bergs
Read 1043 times
Written on 2005-08-22 at 01:22

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Commentally Ill
ah, screw it, throw the leaves away if the whole damn tree's imaginary.
2005-08-22


Commentally Ill
ah, screw it, throw the leaves away if the whole damn tree's imaginary.
2005-08-22


epohonci
collect the leaves, (choking as i ask again) never stop collecting those leaves. this is awesome~

:)
2005-08-22