Poetry from a Time Forgotten : Dark Rope

Tuesday, March 7, 2006

Dark Rope

I grasp at threads black, slippery beads. I try to lift myself up the dark rope toward color, light, anything bright. My grip slips, I hear rips. Sudden breaks, scattering black balls made of sound, bouncing on ceramic floor. Confusion spreads everything rolls toward and against each other, thoughts... Sign in to see full entry.

posted by Ariala at 6:44 PM | add or view comments (2) | leave calling card | link to this | view only this entry
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