Like a flower with numb ankles, i cannot go a single <br />day without a drug or a drink. The tears itself, like <br /> <br />paper i could pin my hopes upon. The way the vines <br />grow around my heart, because how i have been <br /> <br />worried about you. But the cliffs of life and death, <br />are washed by the same waves; You must gather <br /> <br />with full hands as many stars as you can, and <br />scatter them in front of your lover's path. Then wait, <br /> <br />to see what sort of sentimental stillness you will <br />be dismissing. What did you not notice before, and <br /> <br />why do you visit my grave, unprepared to tie together <br />a few scraps of the wind and make a noose for nostalgia. <br /> <br />Make a wing of your dreams on which you were born, <br />and that will never be lost, even against its own wish <br /> <br />to be freed. To be thunder under those gleaming sails <br />of lightning: A storm when a bottle of gin is finished. <br /> <br />A blame to commemorate my oocupation of asking, <br />what are we up to. Why have i came out blinded, <br /> <br />addicted to victory and struggle for complete addiction. <br />The struggle of a man's life, across the soul's fields.<br /><br />gregory collins<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/like-a-flower-with-numb-ankles/
