display to me
the barren shore,
and leafless birches
outside my window pane.
The heavens are smoky,
perhaps ash from the factory,
a vacant lot depleted.
Steets have a lunar hue-
my face twisted by the harsh eastern wind,
a forgotten memory
as bodies grow limp.
i am aware of the bleakness.
the stark reality of silence.
Oct 23, 2019
Oct 23, 2019 at 10:44 AM UTC
display to me
the barren shore,
and leafless birches
outside my window pane.
The heavens are smoky,
perhaps ash from the factory,
a vacant lot depleted.
Steets have a lunar hue-
my face twisted by the harsh eastern wind,
a forgotten memory
as bodies grow limp.
i am aware of the bleakness.
the stark reality of silence.
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