I might run for pages, go out of line
Might write with broken nib, words that fight
Some twisted feels, come taste the lime
I might scribble tales, none held by daylight

the rain
hit the window
glad that
in the safety
of my home
the cold, wet drops
don’t reach me.

Ether licking sentipede raising a bar in solitude,
flaming pink aftermath of candle wax,
say raise frequency to the mosquitos and its dandelions,
and the spiders no longer shake
Where the roots of Miss. Dandellion ached the pit of rottening veign.
She never wept like the rain that first dropped on the candle,
but her strength residual in licking sentipede.
Bathing in the bites of mosquitos at a constant,
keeping her ******, alive.

© Clarissa van Vreden

She sang a song
of ice and snow
and dreamed of oceans
swaying slow
She swam through clouds
and flew near stars
Fell so proud
and dove so far

She was a sad harmony
A song she unsung
A silence unheard
A deed undone

She hummed a tune
of fish and birds
and bore with devotion
The beasts she herds
She swam through life
and flew from death
Fell from strife
and dove bereft

She was a sweet melody
A smile she unsmiled
A violence in violet
My hope she defiled

She sang a song
that twists the mind
and played my emotions
Leaving me blind
I swam near folly
and flew through sin
I fell in love
and dove right in