Coordinants

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    Coordinants

    I have found myself returning to a world I had learned to hate.
    The smoke curls out of my lips, the clock ticks.
    My lies pile up on top of another.
    The cool air creeps in.
    I need to creep out.

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    The true philosopher and the true poet are one, and a beauty, which is truth, and a truth, which is beauty, is the aim of both.

    Ralph Waldo Emerson, American Poet (1803-1882)

    juliet2672’s Poems (13)

    Title Comments
    Title Comments
    The Crocodile 4
    Forced Facade 1
    Hungry 3
    White out 1
    Self Destruction 2
    tired 2
    Addiction 7
    Fire 1
    I am Made of Glass 4
    Coordinants 0
    Maybe Me 1
    untitled 2
    Fell To You 4