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Dead Orbs of Energy
by Jared OrlandoIt’s late.
But it isn’t the kind of late
When one gets all groggy
Almost like you’ve leapt
Straight up from your bar stool
And fallen right into bed
But it’s late enough
That mascara makes your eyes look
Like they belong to that of a raccoon
And you scurry off just the same
It’s that kind of late
Where you lay down
Everything in front you
And ponder restlessly and
It’s too late
Because the clouds roll in
Like waves right before they crash
On a nightmarish-like night
Covering up any chances
Of counting those lucky stars
A luck that exists within
Dead orbs of energy
Left over hopes and dreams
05/30/2010 Posted on 05/30/2010
Copyright © 2024 Jared Orlando
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by Therese Elaine on 05/31/10 at 02:34 PM Dead-star wishes obscured by clouds with no silver lining...some nights you can't even brood introspectively without Nature raining on your parade...a lovely piece...and I know just how late that kind of late is. |
| Posted by Gabriel Ricard on 06/01/10 at 03:20 PM Very late, I'd say. Great write, man. |
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