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Forums > The General Forum: Poets

Is It About Sex?

vladb

Date: September 7, 2006 @ 10:21 AM

Their was nothing, really, to speak of in that room, though for some reason I was compelled to talk to myself, as so often happens.

And though I did not once open my mouth for fear of making some sound to give my presence away, inside I raged with debate, berating and chastising myself, agreeing in part and tearing my self apart.
I was a man of Parts. Parts.

Once more into the breach, someone once called out at me. Someone I could not really hear, could not really understand. I did not even want to approach, I felt I should run away; my flood could not even fill this space.
This space I found myself in, it was out side. It was beyond my control. I was not lost, though I desired to be. I was found; by myself and by those I never wanted to meet.

smokey1980

Date: September 8, 2006 @ 11:31 AM

like me..