a poem

i am a box,

withing my confines are the unknown

vast as imagination

so within me, could be what’s within you

and without you, if that makes sense

which it should…for imagination

is as real as touch, feel

taste, smell, and whatever it is

sound does to your ears

it is hear

in this box that i am.

but don’t feel like frustration

or fill with motivation

i am bound by imagination

thust limitation is just a gang

of 10 letters comprised by wise fools

the box rules it’s space, this space

and takes no planet from it’s orbit

simply cause it’s tired of looking at it

from a scope

it copes, it denies, it speaks

truths turned lies, and back again

and the only thing not within this box

is time.

and there’s no time to explain that last line

so just accept it like your every effort to be accepted.

or protected

or elected

 

for i am the moon light

blocked by the box i live in.

my words.

you live in.

as i grow

sleepy.

~ by blackatticus on August 29, 2009.