The Sketch

Your life is as much emptyLike the Sketch, I left in that roomHalf pencilledTo look and wonderFor you have erased meFrom that base butI am a part of you for eternityEven you beg me to blacken furtherThe page hung on that wallAnd I grant you the very wishI am lost to the windFoaming over the

Poetry|The bloody globe

I just want peace was my litany So deprived of this word my ears I feel blood seeping from my eyes Rather than tears And I taste the taste of copper My tongue wary of food it touches That rivers have flown of this blood On this very earth               What do I tell of my

I am and I am not.

Sitting there on the table, drinking tea I am just a dot sometimes needed and sometimes not I was dispersing like smoke Scattered like wind a fist full of colour or a misty smog dying the sky or a summer song like in the morn I saw when and it was not when, it was