My Cell or The Cell’s Me?
I see that you know how much I need you.
You slowly climbed up my priority list
Like a stealthy cat you ran up that ladder
Before it could even be made strong enough
You stand up there and laugh
You know my secrets.
You eves drop into all my conversations
You’ve figured how to grab my attention,
My time, my space, ME!?
Earlier I never understood you….
What you could do
You let me control you.
No, you let me think I control you.
You knew all along that it was all about you
You deceived me!
1 comment:
this is a poem similar in spirit to yours.
Thoughts...
The metamorphical semantics
Of a twilight turning grey...
The urgent syntax
Of a fast train...
The phonetics of wheels on rails
Every nuance an allophone
Every hearing a phoneme-
The meta-phonology of journeys
Become the morphs of times...
And through a discourse
Like language is read
Under lights of language;
So also... be in isolation or group...
In solitude in a crowd...
Thoughts of thoughts go back and forth
But only unto thoughts...
The signifier of a Transcendence
That cannot be suavely signified
By the very transcendence of Transcendence,
Which is Thought...
Like lives once garlanded or crucified
Or Journeys that made meet or part
Or dreams, to be dawn or deaths...!
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