asklepiades (asklepiades) wrote,


knowledge does not end
experience does not end

I grab the stencil and it's color's bright.
I trace some lines, thick, vibrant, in the predawn light.
it's had to see if greys are grays and little lines start to dissipate
before my eyes.
the colors stain together and wash each other out.

the bannister is cold, I hold
it close as I can.
every step is darker and every stair is just
a bit less there.

when I sell my heart I just expect to feel -
there are things across the world that grab me
fascinate my beating
across my mind and these ideas are

soft and unkind
(the bittersweet).

curling closer into bed,
the shades are drawn, a shade of deeper red
lies with me.

it's the morning when the air is fresh
I wake up in the same place that I was the night before -
the time of day when nothing changes

colors forming a different world each day.

  • (no subject)

    I was wrong.

  • (no subject)

    Everytime someone died. color and breath, the fast unfurl of carbon away from death plants that rise and grow, strange citybomb beneath…

  • (no subject)

    Bloomed in the fall, I loved you in the winter. When summer came the world was dead and cold.

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