-
Quiet
I see your face and want to scream in pain I wear no mask but hope ‘gainst hope in vain In truth it is my fate to die my friend And when dawn breaks I’ll climb the hill again And may not my melancholic aspect within the warm fool’s heart detect A grievous sin not…
-
Without
Emerald towers raise out of the ground/ and fairies sprites and imps abound White smoke rises out of my pipe/ angels and demons appear life-like Wild solemn dances with werewolves under the sun/ chasing prey for miles until the job’s done Prayers for the dead and the living/ hypocrisy smiles like Thanksgiving Images, sounds and…
-
Follow
Following
Already have a WordPress.com account? Log in now.
The Folly of Pen 