keen geode
They are not forms but what forms me;
I am a whirling illumination,
Trapped in a padded room and
The lights are kept off.
The words are fruitless,
The images are nonsensical,
The sounds are begrudging.
Like a fish gasping for air.
Can’t I ever be seen?
Can’t I ever get the kiss?
Can I never shutter at the thought of the endless fractions returning to the deep infinite?
Can’t I be them?
keen geode
(MOS) Life as a Celluoid
rose onyx
Without the title; I would have think the "padded room" would refer to a mental hospital room and the first 2 stanzas would be representing mental illness by the way it was written ( seems desperate)
But the title makes it interesting... I would love to hear what was the intention/inspiration behind this.
<3
keen geode
Without the title; I would have think the "padded room" would refer to a mental ...
This was my first poem in quite some time. I like to keep it ambiguous but I will say: film.