|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
 Posted: Thu Oct 26, 2006 11:32 pm
I'm sitting on the edge of the moon
because my spaceship left without me
and I'll be out of oxygen soon
all because I forgot Houston's name again
They said space was endless
and I guess they were right
cause I can't see the end
just stars, farther and farther away
I feel them playing piano against
my closing throat
thank god for my
prying hands
My sandpaper haircut
scratches my cheeks
and I brush it away
with air-deprived brittle fingers
whispering and wheezing
I find the breath
to hiss out my last words
"Houston, we have a problem"
|
 |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Sat Nov 11, 2006 7:11 pm
That's very interesting. A couple times I wasn't sure whether to laugh or cry at the plight of the man. The only criticism I can give at a glance is that the last line of the second stanza doens't flow very well. Good job.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Reply
