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Cracked And Glued
by Sam RobertsI can feel my head beginning to crack.
Collapse and collect the bottom bell blues,
Severing my sick and sun tanned skin.
Alone on a plain of the passion pricked pin,
that allows the blood- the boil- and surface
Along and over the water, washed waves.
There is nothing in Nirvana, just expressionless faces.
You can't bring back the smile,or the dried, desert days.
Drowning in this rock, rotten pool,
I will go back tomorrow, tarnished by you.
I can feel my head beginning to crack
Carelessly, I try to piece myself back. 05/10/2015 Posted on 05/10/2015
Copyright © 2024 Sam Roberts
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by Kristina Woodhill on 05/10/15 at 04:40 PM I'd love to see a video of all these vivid visuals. Fun to read and imagine. Thanks! |
| Posted by Chris Sorrenti on 05/10/15 at 05:07 PM Lively, evocative piece of writing, Sam. Sort of an update to the Humpty Dumpty syndrome. |
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