Poems from Crichton1
Ruthlessly pushing through the mob
In want of space to breathe.
Helplessly flailing in the openness
In search of someone to grasp.
Memory...
I am from the neatness
Of clothes tucked away
In folded squares
In chests of drawers
In the cream white room...
You all are followers
You seem to forget identity.
You all are in search of conformity
You seem to settle with docility.
Opinions are not...
It was a pondering
That did not seem worthwhile
To waste, but not to spend
Time that would run out there,
For someone else to take,
And do...
It’s a specific side.
The one with frayed edges where
Paper fibers are disrupted from the interwoven
Pattern of rules calculated to win...