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EXTRAPOLATIAN MOUNTIAN RANGE

smokey-hued
you're like a room
hardened by whiskey and sweat
the floors worn out by the heels
of Hate and Love

Shinning in the lights
we carve our ways
passing shift work

The lines rising
your legs thin
hurrying to arrive
and hurrying to leave

Your eyes like a mountian
stream...the curve of its
mystery, the light
surrounded by darkness..

man of the hill
I know nothing
but I remember
your summer
hand upon my
chest

and yes
deep within
is a heart

Bitumen
glittering
like frost

love runs like
a wind
now

a delicious
shiver

Editing stage: 

Comments

Can't see anything to critique here, sensational piece of poetry. Regards Roscoe...

Roscoe Llane,

Religion will rip your faith off, and return
for the mask of disbelief that's left.

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