silent, that bastard and right when least most expected. so sold, so, infected the convections of overlooked yesterdays, the fix, nice, and quick for to quake awake the off cast fever- to take, and bleed believer- to weave there, or, here, or anywhere- to feel faith, (understated at least)- to feel…
Category: poetry
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pt. I mayhaps I don’t belong and, the illusion that ever did fades and aches its way away from here maybe, I cling to that what never been the never was, intoxicating and framing the disappoint delusional woes, the dolled up faces wasted, on the eyes of me pt. II alone, although full room around…
The Veracious Facade 