A whited sepulchre's goodnight kiss above my brow bone,
A zephyr at balmy daylight,
My access wrath at the fool,
Vacant meres,
Misspelled words,
A knell in an empty town,
a quiet belle in the unsung,
ugly poesy in the dispraised.
As I lie here,
amorphous,
incorporeal,
scentless cinammon perfume,
Writing a poetry,
Half-assed,
Desultory,
Liar.
Soon enough,
My eyes begin to close.
xopurposeless
YOU ARE READING
adolescent anger
Poetryany asshole who disregards stanzas in a poetry book is a piece of shit. im that piece of shit.
