His eyes green, his favorite color
His neck old and wrinkled, tendency to look like his mother
Old and gray
Nomadic whereabouts
In a nicotine chase
What a constant race, cough a lung, I suck my left thumb
Motions to better
Rambling here it comes, Brandy what have you done. I migrate, door, turn the knob, open says only me I am the one with a key with Zorn in the back ground of my ear, and I disappear
With a quiet rumble I left my cave they call a room
To eat and mingle with the aliens
Thrashing my arms widely, I get no answer with my friendly gestures
Maybe I am the alien
The one who has a favorite color
Who resembles his mother?
I must run back now, fast before they get to close
Been out too long, might displease my host.
Points:
Time spent:
Canary word: Present
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Original Text:
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125,008 Literary Works • 672,830 Reviews
Very interesting....
I will say it was.. very very weird.... and in a way a little creepy. But don't take that in offence. It was still very interesting... the story there could have multiple story lines... And it seemed as if it did threw the poem. But it was odd.. and yet good and interesting.
Well done.
It's very different I have to say but interesting. Kind of jumbled together so it can be hard to understand, but it's a good start. I would say keep working on it and try to make it clearer to the reader.
please post comments and thoughts! thank you!