when love deals you a wild card

wings falter against vivid wind
the jester on the verge of becoming
faces shifting and morphing
feathers and hellfire
I do not know these shapes and colours
all I want is
the moist sensation of crumbled earth
in between my toes
like gentle fingers clasped in prayer
a reality through a reverse-prism
where light shines through
a single point of focus
where dust settles
and collects quietly
on the floor


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s