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Black-Sand

The plaster on the wall,
Is starting to flake off,
Like the membrane of a brain,
Trying to give up.
Contemplate every single concept,
And the walls begin to shrink,
Absorb every last aspect,
And see the ceiling drain down the sink.
Thoughts slip through my fingertips,
Not giving me time to think.
Sand drifts away subconsciously,
Not giving me a chance to see.
So just pump that concrete,
Through my veins,
Maybe it will steady my pace,
As I spiral through the cracks,
Between the present and the past.
Watch me going back and forth,
Through this black-sand hourglass.
Watch me going back and forth.
Through this black-sand hourglass.
Take hope away from anyone,
And light just turns to blackness,
Take light away from anything,
And see color fade to absence.

(2008)

Autres oeuvres par Nigel Stuart Vinston Gunn...



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