DEAR PENPAL PEOPLE, still moving?
that ego of mine
will be the death of that spine
that nose in the sky
in dooms when thinking a fly
like black & white tiles
still moving right & left not high
can't help the crave of the cold
the one for the illusionary stillness been sold
yet what coldness do you see?
the one that shelters a shell of pure heat in me?
foreigners despise them borders
them feels excluding a hexagonal soldier
do you indulge that part of my be?
the one them thoughts seem to poke my free?
or that urge to write the sights surrounding
worship the floor those souls float a grounding
don't ask which is which
let it comedown on me let it slip let it stitch
a reflection of the past some mindless ghosts fabricated
a reason to a reason to be reasoned on my chapters situated
clinging lines & yearning for the words to utter record letters
something for the universe to swallow in feathers
have them digestions rip in shreds their tongues
nauseate the trachea from those lungs
but I rest it forgive forgave & let it be away
forget not shall stay
tired of the things they never admit to a said
yet my satisfaction of looking back entrapped a bled
makes me deny a defeat
for the respite of jubilance wasn't a retreat
pushed my feet to that lake
put a pen to a paper & called me on stake
never have I ever said yes to a dawn
for that dusk my hopes come clean & drawn
jumping on one single foot loose
holding my own form on an one-ended-noose
------ravenfeels