Going through the motions
My house of a thousand years
My sweat, tears and blood
All props to pretend, to atone, to appease
They see me clawing my way out
My fingers seems to bleed
Eyes cannot be trusted
Its nice and quiet in the dark
Anything is what I can be
Insomnia, anxiety, I don't even dare to breathe
With his blue eyes lovingly, at every corner
Questioning how I feel



Hey guys! I haven't been on here for a while. Writers' block is to blame. Its good to be back though, looking forward to reading some poetry.

Lana

Edited 1 time(s). Last edit at 10/14/2009 07:14AM by g47.

Welcome back,G47,

I like the irony of your title a lot. In fact, I little the extra distance throughout this fine poem that allows the speaker to speak despite her conditions.

Peter

Well done! I sensed the speaker's angst and fears all the way through. Your poetry has a way of bringing reality to bear on the reader.

Joe

A good read, Lana.


Les

First response: I love the internal music in your poem. I also appreciate the irony, and the ironically powerful kind of escapism you express. Very interesting Lana.

K.Q.