madness (Remove filter)
the first is [not]
I don’t have a poem for you
you don’t feel volatile
I am sputtering like a flame someone left too close to
an open window
but you are not the chilly night air
you are not the frayed wick
I still haven’t figured out what you are
you are like deja vu with pretty eyes
seeing a splintering of a thousand potential futures
they all exist because none of them exist ...
Wednesday 21st November 2018 3:26 pm
Recent Comments
Stephen Atkinson on SWINGING
56 minutes ago
John Coopey on SWINGING
1 hour ago
Tom Doolan on St George’s Day
2 hours ago
Tom Doolan on Celebrate St George's Day
2 hours ago
Larisa Rzhepishevska on SWINGING
3 hours ago
Auracle on Piñata Earth
4 hours ago
Larisa Rzhepishevska on St George’s Day
4 hours ago
Evan Tyler on Graham Sherwood
15 hours ago
Stephen Atkinson on Still Life with Massacre
15 hours ago
Evan Tyler on Stephen Gospage
15 hours ago