Fissure of time,
Growing.
Want it to shrink.
It does.
Want it to stop.
It does.
No control, never fine.
Alone together.
Wish again, again.
Again, fail.
Worth nothing, this feeling,
Creeping.
Like apples, there's a worm inside,
Rotten and desired.
Ripen; in the sunset, die.
But, want it to begin.
It does.
Too much pain, stop.
It does.
Please, start again, again.
Again, fall.
YOU ARE READING
Poesy and Prose
PoetryContaining songs, dreams, poems, and prose, this is a collection of my inner-most ramblings. When I need to unwind, I write.
