Nights

The languid smoke only moves when a body enters the room. The promised land needs gas masks for protection, though the silence has enough emptiness to kill someone. No language exists between the one inhabitant. All is known, none is said. He sits and yearns for the days where he could etch his initials onto a white skull.

Advertisements

3 comments so far

  1. Sweet Talking Guy.. on

    I feel the sadness and the latent spirituality here.

    The American Sandwich

  2. Apocalyptic.

  3. Fledgling Poet on

    Deep and spiritual…


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: