noir come up poetry


Navigating sculpted tunnels
with newly stitched nerves,
through melted snow rivers
that carry waste into streets
worn by trafficked lifers.
An unwrapped baby
anti’s up at the tracks,
unversed in ruthless contest
for headlines as kindling.
Naïveté the sole saviour of propulsion
for an irradiated heart
seeking the cradle of song.

Author: tendrilwise

Hi, I have a diploma in Journalism, I've published a novel, and I am currently studying psychology. My odd way of viewing the world either gets me kicked out of parties or invited to them. Jenn McKay

Leave a Reply

Please log in using one of these methods to post your comment: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s