Monday, November 01, 2010

Chameleon Without Colors

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Chameleon without colors
I’m twisting upon a rope,
I know not the tree, nor the reason,
I hang high and choke lower than in my throat.

My guts like a wet coil of reeds,
twisting and piling upon my belly.

I know not who I am nor where I be.
I feel a foot, without a knee.

Darn this sock,
Dream this daring death.
I am absent of purpose,
at a loss with chaos.

Whence delivery?

I know not, and the Knot.

I wish Alexander and his sword.

1 comment:

Valyna said...

...much like Sullen would say.