she keeps adding hues,
and sentences- lazily handwritten
on barks of trees.
colours unsure of their panache
summon her on modest days;
and they create a rainbow.
at nights
sleeping on an elegant black sky
she becomes the moon.
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visuals. rants. ideas. consciousness. freedom
she keeps adding hues,
and sentences- lazily handwritten
on barks of trees.
colours unsure of their panache
summon her on modest days;
and they create a rainbow.
at nights
sleeping on an elegant black sky
she becomes the moon.
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July 9, 2011 at 1:04 pm
socialcircus24
where to run
in ground that burn
looking my life
things divide
lasting night
like horn of truck
of wind that struck
feeling of time
when i hardly define