air glass.
here's' a glass and inside. behind.
dark air, blurred designed.
a flower metal marks the edge of ground glass, it conforms to the function.
transparency and 'incomplete opacity' and 'part.
I'm not even complete but fragmented, but I think they are inside out.
glass and 'my border, and real imaginary.
see the stairs. maybe I can get out. maybe I can go.
maybe they can get.
Within the tower of my fears,
close the door on that dark guilt, bolted the
door, all locked doors.
The blood runs, I
echoes in my ears: pitch
Panther is on the stairs,
now feel that salt is salt.
the pace of panther is on the stairs,
now feel that salt is salt
(Sylvia Plath)
0 comments:
Post a Comment