Don't follow it.
In the black mist of your room there's a light.
It dances through the air, mocking and glowering its pure cloud like spell.
It's almost as if the most beautiful harmonies
spill out behind it and leave endless streaks of hot white, like a shooting star. "This way" it whispers. Don't move. "Come" it soothes. Stay put. "Forgive" it says.
But lay back and be ever so still and with a quick sip of air, hope it disappears. How could you ever let go?
YOU ARE READING
Black Coffee
PoetryA series of small things that cause my brain to erupt in what looks like words. Poetry, prose, and small excerpts. ***there are some explicit/triggering chapters*** ***Mostly dark material*** ♤ "It flows through my veins. Kind of like a plant that...
