My mind is spend <br />in caring. <br /> <br />The moon's mosaic <br />is now just only a mess; <br />A misprint among masterpieces. <br /> <br />Echoes reverberate too loudly <br />and I flinch away from the noise. <br /> <br />A curious neighbor turning on a light. <br /> <br />October's only full circle of light <br />dims it's healing rays <br />as it passes over my skin; <br />It is sick of my eyes too. <br /> <br />Awake and though passing out <br />from who knows what, <br />making me gasp and stare <br />into our opposing planes, <br />through translucent orbs <br />hovering over our heads. <br /> <br />Is this it; the totality of my being; <br />Added then subtract the sins, <br />one action to the next <br />contradicting itself. <br /> <br />There is nothing sacred left in here; <br />Not since my lungs first breath.<br /><br />B.B. Loring<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/october-s-only-full-moon/
