Last SipsA Poem by Travis LawrenceYoga, sunsets, meditation, anxiety, developmentTemper reddened blood rushes to furrowed forehead wrinkles, deepening canyons sink to muscle, symptoms of sky and golden heat stretch like green straightened sunlight into sulfurous iris stinking of stale sight. Share my open palm with lifelines curving back away to drowned deluded pasts like swerving vertebras have hope of disc alignment infinite against gravity, collapsed and forced against grounds, surpassed rocks saturated to sand. Molded earthy clay shapes like swimming bones bending toward mirrored back walls reflecting what is not missing, not accomplishment but peaceful consciousness licks loose liars from my lower spinal’s chord, losing lovers left to right. Shortened days shrink my time left, burning orange dusted like drips of dry sky saliva along horizons, our sun sets alarms for sleeping and tastes last sips of earthy toned colors blurring brilliance toward my greening eyes, absorbed through lonely sickness. Nauseas aches of empty fulfillment spin like black new moons within weathered selfish worth of which I see no new lines to lead into a joyous portrait or some loving sorts of existences, filtered through my memory like rushed water filters through faulty bricks of concrete, cracking sporadically hang nails dug into scales of skin cells. Judgment calls fulfilled to sordid scours of humility could in time see success in progress and turn our dark pupils to dully shriek or dilate like tripped shrinking green color in eyes toppled and hovered as landing pads dusted by windows spin through social perception and reject concrete towers, human productions of frightened insincerity. © 2008 Travis Lawrence |
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Added on November 2, 2008 AuthorTravis LawrenceAustin, TXAboutI'm a 29-year-old using this site to backup my writings, which are mostly poems. Leave a comment if you like, they always make me smile. Have a nice day! more..Writing
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