Wrote a poem and I almost never do that.
I've never felt like I was particularly good with that literary medium.
Maybe that brief doc on street magnet poetry 'Manda and I watched seeped in more than I would have accredited.
I was interrupted in middle of my dreaming.
Faces, places fading fast
I heard your voice o'er write my mind
And lost the colors in my grasp
I was interrupted though it were pressing.
Unsteady shaken to my task
A task that at once, once completed
Relinquished mind sonambled past
I have lost to the some-else interruption.
A wish returning to a clasp
Clasp of sweet, unnamed, forgotten
To be a dream again at last
Don't know what I'll do with the thing (banish and forget? Attention-whore it on fb?) but it's here for now. ;)
