Friday, October 15, 2010

Pink Swirls

My parents are so severe in their speech and sensibilities... my harmony-seeking narratives thwarted for the moment... The sensitivity goes unrecognised, unadjusted to, even though I wear it proudly...
I keep seeing variations on theme / where others assume continuity

I have no desires left to bandy about as unmet
Such a position would cause me regret
The minute I fall into a more sustainable higher
Is the moment I ascend into delicious doubts

And I'm not aware of how I can posture any further
In this city of hazy nightmares
Trinkets in hand (they do the magic dance of technology)
I spy reasons to keep my gaze down
But can't assume threats are all around

I don't know how to reach out, or who to touch
I expect to be delivered from this suffocating pouch

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