The black death, you troubadour, songwriter
Writing to verse, cauterising your heart
Sit in bars, watching the optics pour
Harbingers of bad weather.

Read and leave comments (0)

`

The key of currency
is the changing of hands,
a baton passed on
in constant motion
that binds together
all its participants.

A fresh, crisp bill
is a virgin still,
between your fingers
whose anticipation
and epic journey
are yet to unfold.




 

`

Read and leave comments (7)