Naked Leavings by Candice James - HTML preview

BREATHLESS

Candice James

Copyright 2010

Scrambled patterns

Weaving their way through the rain slicked streets

Of a dusty dream, stand at attention

In the living room of death,

Out of breath, gasping for redemption.

Destruction’s gravel strewn path

Paves the way for destiny’s sky jump.

Hooking onto a makeshift heaven

Of hellish motives and dampened dreams

Rigidly bent into horror stricken figurines.

Sometimes these figurines scream a fierce banshee wail.

Sometimes they dance.

Sometimes they sleep.

I see a sailboat on the horizon

But there is no breeze.

It remains motionless.

The figurines are sleeping,

And I,

I remain breathless.