pennylane731's Diaryland Diary

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driving past the reservoir

4 words, on occasion,
ignored
spoken in between blinding pain
12 hour increments

her brain is taut �
shaking from the reverb of silence

Gatorade to quench and solve
the smoke-laced questions

ask for nothing, and that�s what you get

the sun and waving tallgrasses appeal
to the attention;
dragging sighs from the grayer clouds
and soft vines

she is the broken machinery that cannot be repaired
so, it�s time to drift down the next road

2:11 p.m. - 2005-05-19

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