Pulse (poem)

Pulse (for Amsterdam)

Static breathing, head powered on
to full battery in lightbulb harmony
inside buzzing cafés:

Escape was a necessity,
not a choice.

It was an eternal slow motion:
ambling, pounding, whispering voices
going again and again
after every sentence along canals
looping, swimming free motion
in motorway thoughts,

Running over a purple heart
pumping royal, of violent sunsets
slashed over a drooping sky, blood-eye
half closed, ready to drift to sleep…

— The Finicky Cynic

Check me out on Facebook! https://www.facebook.com/thefinickycynic

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s