Creepy Poem
>> Wednesday, June 24, 2009
[It would seem there is yet much angst in my happy little bohemian soul. Apologies about the title. I couldn't stop myself.]
I look down
to see, my feet
are not my own.
My fingers are
melting, slowly, dripping
Like candle wax.
Hot puddles on the mosaic.
My eyelids
are heavy, hung
It is so cold.
Drenched in misery and self-loathing,
Who have I become?
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12 comments:
You have become the Wicked Witch from the Wizard of Oz and you are "Meltinnnng!".... get your monkey's to save you!
wax zombie...:P
A weird lump of something?
scares meeeee...................
lmao! :) house of wax effect :P .
:) It is rather odd-ish, isn't it?
self introspection...nice blog keep it up!!
A mutant ?
that is really graphic - i like the way ur able to write out that feeling of angst that grows into emptiness in so few lines, with so much force.
You remind me of Calvin&Hobbes and his weird tangent of imaginations. Cool!
Rahul, Enjundia -- thank you.
Gazafi, a *freak* mutant :),
and Nikki, that is the nicest thing I've been told in a long time!
ahan that was quiet straight :)
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