english homework makes my life.
we were supposed to write a poem about how we felt that day... today i feel Sharp.
Sharp is black.
It smells like mint and sweat mingling together on your upper lip.
It tastes like metal thrust through your tongue by a stainless steel spike--
cold, harsh and exhillerating.
It looks like the eye of a hungry raptor:
predatory, sexy, piercing, and deadly.
It feels like the constricting, binding comfort of leather
tightly holding your body together.
To them, it sounds like the suspended silence of Father time stopping
to keep time with your pace.
To you, it sounds like the beating of drums-- pulsating deeply within your chest,
matching the rhythm of your footsteps.
Sharp is the chilling, tingling pleasure of two eyes raking over your body
as you walk down the long, narrow hallway past the long stranger
filling his head with wishful visions and under-played fantasies
spurred on by the inquiry of how your torrid body has gathered
the ambient shadows in this nearly lifeless corridor and draped them
mysteriously about your shoulders and painted your yellow-green eyes
with the thick, dark substance of the absence of light, allowing your true form--
the Goddess of the Night, show as you reign over your new kingdom.
Sharp is black.
It smells like mint and sweat mingling together on your upper lip.
It tastes like metal thrust through your tongue by a stainless steel spike--
cold, harsh and exhillerating.
It looks like the eye of a hungry raptor:
predatory, sexy, piercing, and deadly.
It feels like the constricting, binding comfort of leather
tightly holding your body together.
To them, it sounds like the suspended silence of Father time stopping
to keep time with your pace.
To you, it sounds like the beating of drums-- pulsating deeply within your chest,
matching the rhythm of your footsteps.
Sharp is the chilling, tingling pleasure of two eyes raking over your body
as you walk down the long, narrow hallway past the long stranger
filling his head with wishful visions and under-played fantasies
spurred on by the inquiry of how your torrid body has gathered
the ambient shadows in this nearly lifeless corridor and draped them
mysteriously about your shoulders and painted your yellow-green eyes
with the thick, dark substance of the absence of light, allowing your true form--
the Goddess of the Night, show as you reign over your new kingdom.