asperitas cloudy weather and serene seclusion.
unstrung instruments sewed with a date of certain yesterday wail in a gloomy duet; dust grimacing over unheard melodies. her rusty voice and his typewriter's sound echoed when their ashes splattered on un-flowing water of their lost homeland.
his women is in love. hyper reality of modernist world, his love for her is not sacred. screwed with unscathed wounds of soundless voices flabbergasted for a new face, her face was not even a mere memory but a hazy hole in dried well- stagnant water evaporated. it rained in another land. a needy. she remained thirsty.
terrible, terrible town of trembling faith loosed upon human flesh, a human heart can not see its human form.
n// hey august,
today i cried. 9/8
ps: august 20 you're already gone.
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SANCTUARY
Poetryas you pass by, lost and found, drop a hey to this word-ly menagerie where i keep my various vibrant beings. jul '20 - © springarts
