Amplitude

Hard to tell what rules this world

Maybe thoughts, maybe  whims

Maybe a whisper that a mind has heard

As we stay faithful to our pseudonyms

Maybe there is nothing but a void

And the smell of fire,

A schizophrenia, slightly paranoid

creature, with its pocket versifier.

The death of breath will always satirize

The spare despair  we perpetually wear...

And everytime you close your eyes

No one can tell if the world is really there...

Author's Note

Reviews

[jacob erin-cilberto]

paranoia, whispers, whims....yes, they do rule the world don't they...we breathe, and then we don't....and in the end, does the world really exist...we poets tell of it...hopefully, those written memories will tell us that it does exist and that we did also.

Love you rhyme scheme, the alliteration---great flow to this....great rhythm.
j.

[Ana B.]

Thank you for your beautiful words, Jacob.

[Chris]

I could follow you via the scent of your thoughts flowing within the viola's waves and drawing the world along...

[Ana B.]

Quite a graceful view of the world you have. Thanks for pausing Chris :)

[Chris]

Chuckling here... have a grand eve.