Thursday, March 17, 2011

viscosity of a somnambulic mind at the time of awakening...

by nooshin azadi

picture by rhoda penmarq


when i walk in the streets
people pass through me
and they always leave something behind
a joke
a lie
a quesion
a curse
a tear
a smile
a cry
a heavy silence
or just a sigh

when i walk in the streets
sometimes people can't pass through me
they trip
on something they've once left behind
and fall into the net trap
i weave
with the thick threads
of my painted pains

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