Into each others eyes, we listen to each other breathe. <br />The modern society: when the cell phone rings it is <br /> <br />mingled mournfully, and abortion is looked at like a cave drawing. <br />A lack for words, that i cannot look into the mirror, without <br /> <br />thinking of the world that revolves around it. Is it condensed <br />into dewdrops, or are we just an angel's raiment ripped off <br /> <br />to reveal wings. But the lightning flashes inside the hourglass <br />are getting shorter. Where is that sand from anyway? <br /> <br />I guess i am tired of parachuting onto the soul of eight-thousand <br />spears. They do not cause me enough damage to remind me <br /> <br />of America. It would be more like these sleeves of mine, that <br />cause me much more rage. Being guzzled out of the past by <br /> <br />those who died at Pearl harbor. Those of the Nirvana, as both <br />of us will turn to ashes. Or maybe being injected into the <br /> <br />orphaned child of 9/11. Searching for its mother beneath the <br />covers of my periphery. Where pile on pile of tears is where <br /> <br />i wish i could drill to buy firewood, before another passenger <br />spends the whole soul hopelessly gazing. Before i have <br /> <br />abandoned the world that has never had a flow; Let alone <br />what sign is this so much years later. What praying appeared <br /> <br />in my dream and is as helpless as this? What leaves no trace <br />behind while never tire of looking. Maybe i have been dreaming <br /> <br />about the falling petals of candlelight. Maybe the prologue to <br />counting the stars is really an ellegy. A silence that breaks loose. <br /> <br />I guess i just do not know what is reflected upon the mirror of my soul, <br />could be lined with dreams, could be the pitiful ears from my own mind. <br /> <br />It might just be piling ourselves onto the lily paddies of time, <br />and we all start dancing. We all start sinning, just for fun, out on the graves.<br /><br />gregory collins<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/do-not-cry-a-tear-that-rows-off/
