Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Mar 2023
O narcissist, would you go
above the moon, if I want to sleep
in the flames of invisible stars?

Who gives light without
pregnancy to new gods and installs
aerial temples of broken hearts?

The killing has a moon
face. I will bring corn fever to
gnaw the legs of falling truths.
Written by
Satsih Verma
136
     Mike Adam, Brae and Adrasteia
Please log in to view and add comments on poems