Finding not but the favor of doubt
My soul coils
Orates itself to the ambient
Hides in cool shadow
And hisses at passers by

I smile the obligatory smile
And nod and espouse
My tongue losing relations
Front and back

I find comfort in this cold world
Trickling breeze collecting leaves
Though summer sun bakes top of trees
My breath is chilly hot

I am through trying to make sense of this
…Of me

From this point forward let nature take its course
I will affect things but on a quantum level
With the exception
Of the vacuum of my being

nice

I have come to the conclusion that creative, intelligent, deep-ish people(poets) are a mess more often then not which from my point of view is a good thing How can you not be when delving within the uncharted murky depths of self? I have a hard time imagining you anything more then "a sometime mess" well spoken

Slytherin

http://www.injenn.net/~tania/slytherin.jpg

Very good,painted the picture more than just painted the words..tyvm

Very Very nice write

excellent write