Tuesday, February 22, 2011

Quicksand

Look more towards your left-
don't you see my protruding eye-balls
fervently plead for the hand of a Samaritan?

Can't you perceive my stifled voice?
You seem to be too distant to care

As if you’re arduously conferring with those egrets,
deliberating (your) suitable place for a haven.

I've been vomiting my anguish
my elegiac gibberish musings
and that's how the litter has piled on,

given birth to a plot of quagmire to drown my soul-
and you think I'm regaling a sand bath?

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