A collection of original poems and photos. I believe that art comes out of humility. Herein lies my crash course of the said matter.

Tuesday, July 22, 2008

Read Across Your Shoulder

With cold, hard confidence like a fly survives,
I read this morning paper,
but my jealously springs to life,
and the pompous thrust of my wings only spreads the poison.

I felt that beautiful shudder
of forgotten dreams whisk my heart above my hair,
with an aftershock that welled up in my bones,
betraying my feelings, it had never left me.

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