Monday, January 17, 2011

In this post-modernity

Where everything is relative, even love.
And we're expected to adapt.
To concrete jungles, motionless vines
Trapping us and we can't escape

An invasion of lines freezing soft
Roads, paper, faces hard sharp points
Creasing and dividing, drawing
Boundaries between the next

One's on the left, the other icy
On the right, what looks familiar
Is the dark side of the moon
Everyday in the shadow of the skyline.

Posted by Rebecca @ 5:59 PM