They’re sitting on the steps outside the church again,
The three, getting high and speaking in a language
That I can’t understand.
The words are there, but they don’t make sense,
No separation between vowel and consonant,
Syllables are blurred and slurred into a continuous drone,
Sometimes rising, sometimes falling,
But unknown in substance to my ears...

~ The Phantom Three
Free Verse Poem (excerpt)
by Annyash B. Arriffe

© 2010 Annyash760. All Rights Reserved.