"Ones and zeros are my friends......
with pixels vibrant I re-send..."
The silhouettes within my head......
are here to taunt me once again,
surrounding me in a charcoal haze…
and mashing staples through my nights and days.
As the cherry burns, another sun-ray splits the sky
and so I hide.........
behind these walls... of shadow.
The smoky joy that does not sting......
blood-lined eyes with blackened rings,
music pounding from an arid land...
drives the rapids through a heart of sand.
A calendar, flips a page, and calls my name
but I stay sane.........
inside these walls... of shadow.
Ones and zeros are my friends......
with pixels vibrant I re-send,
smiling keys without the judging eye...
the truth is better than the living lie.
Archaic threads, that will unravel in my seat...
if I'm not free.........
within these walls... of shadow.
Outside the door there's no escape......
when human bars make up the cage,
the shifts of concrete threaten to ignite...
so peace is found with solitude inside.
As the feline purrs, like an engine tailored well...
I avoid hell.........
and bless these walls......
of shadow...
Original Copyright © 2008 Stone Bryson. All Rights Reserved.
Written June 2008
Known in many (albeit small) online circles over the past 15 years, Stone Bryson is a poet, storyteller, and essayist. He is working on various writing projects, and lives what he describes as an 'analog life.' He resides in Jackson County, Missouri.