rarefied air

FLOATING DUST SETTLED ON THE WAYSIDE LAUNCH,READY TO EMBARK ON A VOYAGE BEGONE,MOULDED FROM A CLASSIC NOVELLA OF THE RUE DE LABOURDANNA, DRINKING FROM A PORT INTO AMAZON WITH BOHEMIAN ROUGE APPLIED ON A TEMPLATE SPIRITED WITH DUSKY COMPLEXI0ON OF THE TAVERN...I PROCEED...

Tuesday, March 30, 2010

The Smile

Direction-less i spend my days
in rituals, dreams and spiritless ways
waiting for i do not know what
my sad eyes keep constant watch
Perhaps waiting for the agony to end
perhaps for the super man to descend
perhaps for the music to play
that would make me sway,
and awaken
the laughter that has hollowed inside
The smile that is so still
So still it is, in it's pretense
Oh! it almost makes me cry
It hangs there loose
as if on a noose
so erect and yet so pale
like the recital of a gallows's tale

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