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sunburn flee

sunburn flee

weightless, i float the space
between my fingers
the light glows bright yellow

sparkle and glimmer
like the shiny and the vinyl
mixed with lava-heat and sun debris

down, where i know it was
i fear the float
the dead float (placed, aligned, decayed)

sometimes i think i try
my head hurts, hurts
and gone, spaces the gone

no more one on run
i pursue with caution
stuck but in the back of my head

dead and floated, dead weight
i'm stuck on the inside
mind wanders outside this

i see stars but no moon
no deep, boundless black sky
blink, flee, blink, race the rise

burn my flesh and unsoul
run and i might try
escape

i ran to the sky

i ran to the sky

i ran to the sky, into the rain
that tore at my eyes.
i held my breath and
i thought about the clouds,
the way the pieces fall off
in the form of tear drops.
i washed away the smile
that was pressed into my lips,
the salt from my cheek bones,
and the noises in my ears.

Promise of Cold

Promise of Cold

Icy air,
how I've missed you so.
Do you know what pleasure it brings
to feel you blow across my face?

It brings a promise of cold,
gloomy days with a little snow.
The nights get ever longer.
The sky turns toward a dismal gray.

Wrap myself up in my coat only
to go around the corner for
a cup of coffee, but I enjoy
the walk more than anything.

The winds dances around me,
goes through my coat and
seeps right down into my bones.

In the morning, I'll stand
out on the balcony wrapped so
snug within a blanket watching
the snow slide across the dawn.

And every night I go to sleep
next to a fireplace hoping it does

the needed angle of skeptic

the needed angle of skeptic

the needed angle of skeptic
from fortune cookie insert
of "beauty, charm and adventure"
opened to a full world
razor sharp eyes
before an audience

dangles
a strand of hair
of truth
a slit of trust
spread apart

beading mouth
with your slump
standing like you always do
and you
a reflection of your shadow
your shadow
a reflection of you

fruit punch stain
luminous peaks of tile
frigid cold floor
on to the floor
my head off

there
not so much
unconscious

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Submitted: June 26, 2003
Image Size: 82.6 KB
Resolution: 649×448

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Favourites: 1 [who?]
Views: 136 (0 today)
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Phillip Defendingby ~glue

Traditional Art / Drawings / Other

©2003-2013 ~glue

Yea, I don't really know. Ink stuff on paper. And I really like the eyes.

~subtlesab0tage Mar 25, 2004

Sometimes less really is more..I likes.

Reply

~mediium Mar 25, 2004

needs more i think, or a meaning... not sure...

Reply

~idtb Mar 27, 2004 Hobbyist General Artist

If it had meaning, it wouldn't be by Glue! J/P.

Reply

~04829 Jul 25, 2003 Professional General Artist

That's beautiful. Vive la minimalism.

Reply

`halfliquid Jun 27, 2003

hmm -- i like the way this is all at the same time simple ... yet the lines and curvy style sorta make it complex as well.

this is some fine inkering.

:P (Lick)

:P (Lick)

Thumbs Up

Reply

~seanfus Jun 27, 2003

Yeah, I have no idea really, but I think it's cool. :) (Smile)

:) (Smile)

Reply

~devilbox Jun 27, 2003

erm yeah, thats awesome. really. i love the style n what not, in fact im adding it to my favourites :) (Smile)

:) (Smile)

ps. im not dead and my house didnt burn down =) (Smile)

=) (Smile)

Reply

~machesnaches Mar 26, 2004

what about my house?

Reply

~devilbox Apr 14, 2004

i dunno, did it burst into flames recently?

Reply

~machesnaches Apr 15, 2004

Not recently.

Reply

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