Monday, 25 February 2019

given dried peace

i was given an opportunity
to fail in my dreams ; so i did.
i whispered hate and manifested
dead skin only me and mine could
touch. flavours of the atlas dripped
into my mouth and down my
regrets ; because when i wake
i want to move without its loud
climate change.
taller than me and
not ready for me, my dreams
were dying inside
to fall free.
 
 

preferred idle eyes

started creating paperback  tears out of idle pen hands,  and look where it took us. i've encountered space between us but I've blur...