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Light Weight
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Always Tommorrow
IP:
The passing moments of
a tasteless day cross
lost patterns of your
relentless youth away.
Tragic stories with
listless endings and
whispers of whisky sours
hold your head in check
while your mind counts
on the passing hours.
The abyss recieves bold
stares and accumulates
kisses from perched lips
ready to recieve the
bleeding stints from the
minute despair was opened
on the kitchen table's edge.
The birds of a prison cage
swallows, two thirds of
newly hollowed bottles
sit upon the windowsill
and catch the light
from the glory days ahead.
-New writing style, testing it out.. Special thanks to Myself. For lending a helping hand with this type of writing..
Links coming tommorrow.
__________________
Was he robbed of the ashphalt that cushioned his face?
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