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A Man Gazes at the Streets... A man gazes at the streets beneath himA Man Gazes at the Streets... by ~rpersha
His head grows weary and rests on his arms
The bird’s eye view of the sparkling gray
Doesn’t entertain him in the least
He feels motionless under the weight of the sun
Just another fatality of comfort
He looks into the sky and admires the birds
A strange feeling comes over him
And he is wrapped in a blanket of feathers
The feathers spring from his own back
A sense of exploration is overwhelming
Without hesitation, he leaps into the sky
Effortlessly gliding through the concrete trees
He makes his way into a strange place
A place where the sidewalks are green and stretch for miles
A Man Woke In The Morning... A man woke in the morningA Man Woke In The Morning... by ~rpersha
The sun blinded his eyes
As light crept through the shades
And disturbed his sweet lies
The clock began to scream
The sun woke him before
“What the hell just happened?”
But then began the roar
He lifted from his bed
Opened his window blind
He knew things were normal
What did he think to find?
The sky was solid gray
As it had been for years
The highway roared below
The sound drowned out his fears
Post shower and breakfast
He drove his way to work
Where he thought he might rest
And these thoughts he could shirk
“What on earth is that thing?”
He then glared at the sky
maelstrom There was a time when he woke up to skies that smelled of burning wood and fraying threads. Those mornings were sewn together from shadows so long that she never had to ask him what he was doing when she found him on the floor, tongue pressed to the glass. She swallowed her words and settled her kneecaps next to his, matching his compressed mouth, haphazard breath staining their view. He never had to explain to her that this was as close as he got to tasting precipitation before the first fall.maelstrom by ~SocraticSynapses
Back then, their fingertips always found each other.
======
One afternoon the sky darkened and the clouds stumbled in on swing rhythm feet. T
The footman. The man came.The footman. by ~superhamst
Walking with no shame.
With rusted chain mail.
And a canvas cloak colored as a sail.
A sword at his hip,
And a bottle in which to sip.
He said "my tale is well
In which I shall tell.
But first let me some wine.
For, for me to speak I must dine."
So they fed him.
And let him eat on his every whim.
And after he ate
he said: "Let me not be late!
For it would be sad for you to miss this chance.
It is the very story I told a king at the point of a lance.
My father, god rest his soul, I hold dear.
He told me the line I speak here.
"For of the saddest words of tongue and pen,
The saddest are these: 'It might of been
Sta.sh
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Out of every cardiatic vaulve, and blood pump she had to walk into mine.
--
An Explorer
how you been man? you have fun there?
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Out of every cardiatic vaulve, and blood pump she had to walk into mine.
--
An Explorer
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