The Wasted Poem

EvilToasterElf

a poem written while wasted...

She’s come undone

as dusk enfolded the trail
she climbed, until starlight melded with the
canopy, severing flashlight spectrums,
reaching into the sky, curving
into silver coils that bathe bare oak limbs
and her foggy breath became memories
of skinny suburban kids playing under sprinklers
camping in backyard sing a’ longs
chanting guns and roses to sliding glass doors
where smiling parents swelled with lemonade
waiting for children’s dreams to reach murky fruition
in college dorm rooms, energized with confusing hormones
slaves to unknown thoughts that cling
like beer stains to white tee-shirts, before
professional entropy gripped that cubicle of the mind
singing in the shower to sold out crowds of
imagined audiences, screaming her name to
the rafters for encores, in voices that rose in
fell to the stage, rolling like quiet waves at
a vacation getaway, dancing in the air, like
the five pointed oak leaves that glide,
playfully to the grass,
outside her window.

Yellow

anOmis

that line took my breath away


pretty deep meanings