The sky outside my window
Turns from ebony to crimson
As a car beeps at the warning of a break in
Another starts up and in a flash the colors back again.
And a plane rivals the defeaning sound of the bugs outside.
The house rumbles,
And I shake, oh-so vulnerable.
Then, as it drifts away, silence.
The bugs are back again
As I listen to wolverines howl
The turtledoves should be up soon
As another car starts to growl
With a flash of sounds like a current bursting through a tube,
it's gone.
The bugs are back again.
Instantly droning into your mind
Until it becomes background noise
Just like the clock at the old house
Ticking so loud throughout the kitchen
They reach the ears of a mouse
The bugs sound like birds now
As the orange night turns to ink
I bet you'd like me to rhyme something with "kink"
The bugs are silent now
Yet I hear a high-pitched scream.
Or the bugs all at once
To drill the sound into my dreams
The only other sound is my bed sheets shuffling
And a long-off distant car growl
That i was probably hallucinating
It's here that I'm alone in thoughts
Rationality begins to die and rot
Like toxic friendships
swept under the cot
I bet you'd want me to say something about the bugs
But no, let's review
This poem started out messy
And now it rhymes anew
Why did I stop writing poetry?
I ask myself and smirk
I realize why and fall back to my place on planet earth.
Then it hits me.
Like bad puns my old friends used to tell.
"Fine arts and poems became your sentence"
"To an earthly hell."
YOU ARE READING
Roses Bleed Blue || Poetry ||
PoetryI'm bored Yet my mind is racing My heart Can't keep up with inconsistent pacing I'm panicking They can't keep up with the chase and I'm looking But I can't find my wrist brace and If i were a card I wouldn't be an ace then It's suffocating All the...
