A poem about Roadblocks. Writer's Block. Wrong choices. Walls we build. Enemies we feed. Love we starve. The fight to keep on despite construction.
There was was a guy named Mark. Who liked to smell everyone's farts. He got so high, he floated the sky. And that was his best form of art.
I want to get lost in you so that you may find me again and when you search for me in your soul, I'll be resting there I'm just going to have a little nap between your heartbeats (c) Delia Ross. 2013. All Rights Reserved.