Vortex

An image between two mirrors – bouncing soul left to right – right to left – vortex spinning

Vertigo and drowsy in words of make believe lovers

The doorway opens

And in walks the black and the white ready to pounce to rip or to rest

Can’t take a smoke outside – can’t take a smoke inside – can’t take a smoke

Though in a faint memory of coffee and notebooks a smoke is readily available

Always readily available – lips can suck and blow words

Long before the moon reaches beyond sight- long after the moon reaches beyond sight

Sleeping poet does not sleep

Does not feel poetry in her veins does not feel music in her soul does not feel touch on her skin

Trapped in the vortex of the spirit sucking images

Laughing and screaming from across walls.

This girl has gone mad.

                                          She most certainly has.

But she will sleep on it – will eventually close her eyes

Only to wake to the Dead.

Relish in the language and words and words and more words

Building a path for her to escape this fucked up town.

And she will never look back.

This was merely a pause that shook and broke.  An Earthquake of sorts that did not crack the

Mirrors smiling at endless hallways.

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About tanyas13sonnets

poet and dreamer
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