antisocial wanderer
spontaneity
Monday, November 29, 2010
foggy watershed
I m picking up the scattered pieces,
they seem invisible.
they push me, they blind me,
to the brink of the watershed,
of my dangling fear,
and of my despicable prejudice...
No comments:
Post a Comment
Newer Post
Older Post
Home
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment