Maybe I could write these words In a way which would attract more people But poetry is coming from a place deep inside, And is very private These words are mine
Expelled from my own Somehow the only thing I will ever own, But will hold In a way Only once
I want to **** myself* She says to the void The void just closes it's big sleepy midnight eye turns away around pulls the cloak further over its shoulder Just a back rippling in silk The midnight eye curls it's cloak as it turns away I am alone trapped on this side of the glass
everything is flipping flipping flipping sand made of glass light real or not real? changing and shifting a desert My consciousness an oasis but also a drought