The Sky Will boil
Slide into the streams.
Thunder and rupture.
white searing screams.
The mountains will whip out the sound of my name
from furious fires they spit out in flame.
But I've sunken into the ground.
where no sounds follow.
away from all the pain of conditional happiness.
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This was really nice! I loved the poem!
ReplyDeleteDeep pool is glass,
ReplyDeleteHeal the green corduroy sky,
Ferocious air,
Oh do picture the sad boy,
Say change and surround
my vast liquid ocean
of concrete grass
in hot blue life.
Polybore.