September 11, 2009

What Dreams May Hold

“I think its time to go,” she said, “I think its time to go”
Down rabbit holes and coast-lined roads
“I think its time to go.”

An escape is churning on the mind
As laughter turns to pages
Pages bidding time

What makes you so special?
What makes you so nice?
The words conjure rocking
The word connotates ice

If its childhood games you want to play
This spoon sans plate will run away
I’ll raise you daylight plus recovery
Drink it up my friend, imbibe the revelry

Or rivalry if you will
Jealousy, my chosen sin
Don’t start this game with me old boy
For you will unknowingly not win

A quiet quest as most sins are
Hidden in darkness, nights without a star
I lie alone in crowded bed
The sins and squalor haunt my head

And so she calls once again
“I think its time to leave”
Away to dream of vices old and fresh
A shot of liquor, a heated touch of flesh

“I think its time to go” she shook, “I think its time to go”

The cold rocky asphalt begging for bare feet
The tiny, trapped voice calling its defeat
The wet grassy wasteland cooing at her ear
But swallowing that lump is the only thing she’ll hear

And then the rushing of her dark heart
Boiling red hot in its cage
Only a sly smirk can hide its pulsing rage

A silent secret, secret untold
For it is a mind that is slowly lost
Searching for what dreams may hold.


Doug said...

I like it! Good to hear from you, lady.

I almost always think its time to go, by the way. Usually before I get there.

cooper said...

Nothing but good feeling to see you pop up on my reader Rio.
That was nice, be back please. There is no imagination or creativity out there any longer.

Rio said...

yes hello again all two of you...
trying to give imagination or creativity another chance.