by scott from jail

In little, tiny, and reflecting ice-like moments
let me etch my face,
melting while the sun shimmering on this life
Glistens into spring some sort of dew
Awake in all the golden hue of life

And then, beneath that Spring, come color
That which is, and was, ... how in the closest moment of despair
Your cry, its scream and echo still ring out
Its swanky and deserted shine
long gone

There in the cavern of this mind, echoing its song, terror, fright, dark passion
let me dwell - Did you know that I collapsed beside some concrete stair to hear it
And hear it still, etched into each fragment moment
As if icicles are etched, diamonds with names and microscopic Bible verses
Never letting go their hold

Until driven crazy by their sheer weight
I go... and down ... and down ... and down
goes all the polar cap with me
Hearing screams still
But more distant...

Copyright © 2014 - scott from jail
Published: 2/6/14   ·  Author's Page   ·  Next Poem