Transparent, with no finger tips,
Man made you
Just to be
Dependent.
And so I wonder
When was I
Intoxicated
By this mechanical Eden?
Though scentless,
Shapeless,
Without a soul
And no door to walk inside,
I am sheltered
Within this paradise
Of artifice.
Monday, 13 October 2008
Incomplete
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment