Friday, January 7, 2011


An ardent hasty smoke,
Up the stairs in a trice –
Thinking, smiling, dreaming:
It’s a good feeling –
The swirl of thoughts mesmerizing!
The mind clear, the heart pounding,
The head hurting, delirious with
The whirl of ideas flashing past
Swift, desperate, frantic
Across the sky,
Flying by,
Out of breath.

Can I reach myself in time?

* * *

1 comment:

Enduring the Babbles of Life said...

Dude - that's the lack of oxygen to zee brain after a furiously puffed-up ciggi butt ;)! Oops sorry - poet's have certain licenses ;)

good stuff