thursday. pm
starin
at some reflective floor
some polished hall
waitin
4 the doors
to meet
a light
a chime
a bounce
the bottom
falls out
i rolled in
all atomic
uncontained
energy
now ima
hydraulic
haul ina
box
a simple
toe turn to
taxicab flag
hell
friday. am
going up?
ya (im down)
bouncin
friendly
coffee sloshin
mornings
suspended in
definite
frenzy
the mood
only sleep
can break it
up
No comments:
Post a Comment