[ home | poems | forum | bio | photos | other stuff | email ]

 

 

Coming Down

   


 

You are lying in your bed at four in the morning and you still can't fall asleep because of the acid you dropped a few hours ago. Your extremities ache and burn from the brutal tension of being wired, and there is no place in you that does not echo the despair of youth.
 

This blackness rises within me like perpetual midnight skies;

 

 

 
     
   

 

Copyright © 2002 D.E. Willer. All rights reserved.