Udder silence.
No milk in the milkyway,
crushed stars on broadway,
distant faces,
bland taste.
Group chat with me
kinda lonely,
double rainbow in the future
grasses grow seven feet high
plump stomachs
sore throats,
what's on Vine?
Ignore that,
mulled wine
dance with me under nebulas,
clap our hands together,
leap, and taste new scents.
Spin in this dark
silence.
12.9.14
Lilly S.
:)
YOU ARE READING
Drowsy
PoetryThe Sleep Trilogy. Book one: Drowsy (complete), Book two: Catharsis (ongoing), are both collected here. About sleepy feelings, sharp moments.
