This serpentine shadow.
A ticker-tape wind.
It's a new constellation.
Planets pulse like an idea.
A gathering squall spells out our fortune.
Everything disappears in a wall of gray.
It's not a new form of suicide;
Its as empty as space
And twice as cold
In a dark with no stars.
Sep 25, 2020
Sep 25, 2020 at 12:36 AM UTC
This serpentine shadow.
A ticker-tape wind.
It's a new constellation.
Planets pulse like an idea.
A gathering squall spells out our fortune.
Everything disappears in a wall of gray.
It's not a new form of suicide;
Its as empty as space
And twice as cold
In a dark with no stars.
Not that anyone may read this. But I wrote this today
Why doesn't anyone repond?
Am I on the wrong sight?
What do you sayEloit?