Wreath of wrong deeds,
honouring the evil.
A deep rift,
thunder in it,
drifting to the right
then the left,
heavy footed,
shredding cries,
when clouds fight,
worsening the plight
of the skies.
©songbriti
Been to Being
The cologne in the attic: a nugatory appeal it carries; nights of enchantment, work no more. I lie down on the torn couch, intending to mellow out, gruelling questions, rest, pause, rest: run no more. Composing the lost, must I not? collect, integrate, dislocate. A chimeric stream, pushes itself heavily, down the pulsating beats, involuntary much? shaping up to your expectations, by gones, infernal, breaking free. Vanity of rotten wishes, extracted, defeated, thrown: tamed no more. ©songbriti
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