Grey Matter (


Your breath

Still rots

Beneath my skin

Waiting to be attended

And pampered

I try to bury it

By creating new thoughts of

Self-considering illusions

That may attempt to make me

A happy person

But those bubbles keep bursting

As they constantly fail to handle

Your sharp content

That bears some similarity

To reality…


Could somebody

Wake me up

From this reality

Cause I find myself

All locked up

In this state of insubstantiality


~ by rb on February 8, 2009.

5 Responses to “Grey Matter (”

  1. Lovely poetry. I like the first half more than the second.

  2. Hey thanks…!

  3. LOL P.

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