Yeah, poetry scribble dump.
spring time
the light falls down
upon my face
and warms it
moon glow
shine over me
the crickets' song
I sleep
(written stream-of-conciousness with "Sora" stuck in my head)
my muse waits
in a small, tremulous huddle
for the harsh glare of criticism to end
and the soft shadow of inhibition to fall
light
great pillars of terrible shining glory
soft beams gently carressing
a warm glow
a cool shine
filtered into dazzling colors
shattered into deliniating shadows
bright glare
stark illumination
blinding rays flaring into being
suffocating radiance fading into nothing
Yeah, they were just scribbles.
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