Deprivation
by MYRYN VILLAFLOR
[they slither, and they hiss
like talking serpents , as they pass
through those discarded streets]
his head’s a sanctuary of sounds,
where he would hear his father
sing him to sleep
[they drift, and they hover
like cigarette smoke would
inside that shady space]
his heart’s an ocean, and
women are like waves; reflecting,
and refracting along the shoreline of his life
[if only I could stop the sky
from raining,
the sky,
from raining]
then, no night would be too long,
but, well, he’s drunk and stoned
and he’s traveling solo
[will someone sadder,
please, tell him,
please]
his skin’s a collage of
despondency; a patchwork of
a midday muse.
Copyright (C) 2013 by EvanescentMoon.
12.10.13