The Move

It's constant hunger in balance
nodding mergence that of smile and fang

Hunger...
Ahh, that primal gurgle beating tempo to the brain
To seek, to find, to bind, to consume
with so many memories
or is it real?
Preposterous?

There, in black and white, as an off shore storm swirls while above and below
worlds collide.

What will sate these alien feelings? Sex? Food? Religion? Work?
Feelings so strong they weaken the mind
with the soul taking up the heavy burden
so many lost inside their head.

They've come and no one will listen
Nobody cares as they live their ordinary lives
Nothing to see or hear
moving on and on and on...

Love
Hate
Indifference?
Yes, the aliens have landed...
inside.

Robin B. Lipinski claims to be addicted to writing. It helps that his good dreams are other people's nightmares. There is not much to know about him other than he shares this planet with you and others.

Find more by Robin B. Lipinski in the Author Index.

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