My footfalls in the citys night-empty
streets strike echoes off indifferent walls
my senses strained, improvising fresh
grounds for fear from the empty silence.
The still air seems thick with the detritus
of countless wakeful nights, with stale
dreams, decaying nightmares, with
interminable, tormented insomniac schemes.
I am unable to silence my suspicions,
they tear at my flesh like thorns of briar.
And still the distance that separates me
from a warming fire seems immeasurable.














Devious Comments
I was imagining someone walking alone, studying every detail of their surroundings for a sense of... company.
Great piece
--
Dum spiro spero.
I'm pleased you enjoyed it.
--
There's always a better poem just out of reach.
Words create situations
The universe is a procession with measured and beautiful motion
-Walt Whitman
from a warming fire seems immeasurable."
Great line.
I see it as a finishing line.
--
Were having a poetry reading July 20th
And The Whole World Is Invited.
--
There's always a better poem just out of reach.
Words create situations
The universe is a procession with measured and beautiful motion
-Walt Whitman
Thanks for honoring me with your consideration.
--
Were having a poetry reading July 20th
And The Whole World Is Invited.
thanks too for catching the irony in the title.
--
There's always a better poem just out of reach.
Words create situations
The universe is a procession with measured and beautiful motion
-Walt Whitman
--
'As soon as a cartoonist says to herself, "This is good enough," she falls into the depths of hell.'
-Sang-Sun Park
♥To avoid confusion, let it be known that this account is shared between two artists; Nicnic and Amy. ;3 ♥
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