Raging raven rebellion rani, raspy & reclusive.
Parades peppered praise inside poltergeist pockets.
Ebony so effervescent, it could've been onyx.
Opal, obsidian—an obsessive evening of anguish.
Colliding as I crash on repeat, reckless.
At the very intersect of valour & arrogance exists an abyss,
a blackhole of laboured breath that blankets us like breakfast.
Grief is a graveyard of gifts, organized in rows that remind us of impermanence.
Tied to trauma tinted by teflon terrorism—I will always be your hostage..
Wednesday, November 11, 2020
Black Tourmaline.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment