Damp drilling spiders <br />correcting Grammar <br />and fulfilling their mission. <br />We are breeze skinned now <br />and so we prance <br />in malignant abandon. <br />Calling to trees... <br /> <br /> fall. <br /> fall. <br /> <br /> fall on me and <br /> educate me <br /> on the <br /> stupidity <br /> of <br /> opening windows. <br /> <br />Doors slamming shut and furious skins <br />are demanding retribution. <br /> <br />Sighing to self <br /> and thinking, <br /> <br /> it's all lemonade <br /> gone stale now. <br /> <br /> <br />Jesus. Sweet merciful Jesus, <br /> what sharply stoned road <br /> am I walking upon? <br />There are too many shivers of dread. <br />Too many falling trees <br /> and skinning of knees. <br /> <br />Answering me. <br /> ' Be quiet. <br /> Remember who I am.'<br /><br />Chris G. Vaillancourt<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/whispers-in-a-dreary-place/
