it is late, this night, soft love <br />asleeping <br /> <br />.not me, though. <br /> <br />laughing with the breath <br />of what the mute flames can flicker into my lungs. <br />each clocktick is another shovel-full of dirt <br />flung over the shoulder of the <br />one bastard I can’t escape, the one bastard I can’t outwit. <br />but, the world turns, and <br />soon I’ll be gone. <br /> <br />and the mushroom moon shines no sympathy. <br /> <br />the window draws my attention <br />to it’s dull, framed stars <br />and symbolism literally leaks from their shivering shells. <br />but, the world turns, and <br />soon they’ll be gone. <br /> <br />and the mushroom moon shines no sympathy. <br /> <br />but, <br />the sun shall bloom soon, <br /> <br />when the hills will have hatched fireworks all along their sides, <br />and nobody but me saw the world turn <br />colors.<br /><br />Jackson Riley<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/and-nobody-but-me-saw-the-world-turn/
