I was reading L.P Hartley,
Jefferson Airplane was still in flight
Lavender gazes falling on my page
Where a boy split love with the edge of his thumb
I tried to put the words down
And stop playing my favorite song
They had to end so I could see
That hope doesn't live in their beat
Writing in all the books
she could find
Just to feel them
flutter out of her mind
I was lying on the blackened pitch
3am in my empire stitch
Looking at a ceiling for the answers
Finding them from
where I asked them
The same song I played every night
At the edge of the morning
Only then did I feel right
I was painting in my glass house
Playing with shades of blue
Shades of you
I found the faces I'd never know
Buried in the deep ultramarine
For a moment I felt alive
I was sitting under a glass sky
Tears can fall if they're alive
Crashing seas that swim within me
Edge of the cliff I stand to jump
I don't break through not even
To reach your touch
You know I'm not happy,
Sad's not enough
I can still smile and you'll believe I'm alive
You ask if I want more,
You know that I do, I do, I do
But for now I'll fix myself
I was driving on the coastline
Cruising my mind at night
Wishing the road would never end
That I could lose the will to return to somewhere
Belonging to an empty sky
All the stars my guiding eyes
I was reading L.P Hartley,
Jefferson Airplane was still in flight
Thinking if I lay eyes wide shut
Would I forget that,
you're too close
to reach.
YOU ARE READING
Beat Poetry
PoetryModern beat poetry, old school Kerouac, classic Lana Del Rey. If Lana Del Rey's music had an affair with Jack Kerouac's work their love child would be my poetry, set against the pop culture of America, the high of Cubano, the Lolita age where the gl...
