Benjamin Jenkins, poem, poems, poetry, writing

Born with the drive to strive.

Heaven and Hell

Play horsehair violin strings.

Harmony becomes symphony.

Live your dreams

Or fall

Through Alice’s looking glass.

Brought to our knees by

A self-aware synaptic miss-fire.

My life is measured in passed kisses

Beneath burnt charcoal skies

I smoke signal my wishes.

Memories pierce my veins

Backwashing a crimson decision.

My High

Plunges me into a rush of divinity.

Dropping from a boundless height

Burning with an evanescent light.

I become a color

On the spectrum.


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