With the clouds in front, it’s a filthy sky. With the sands flying by, it’s a dirty gust. With the drops filled unjust, it’s a muddy rain. But for the greens in pain, and the boys of vain, and the ones insane, it’s a lovely day. To check out more of adreamy1’s work, go here. Continue reading “A Lovely Day” by adreamy1.
The dark winged wisp in the cold, into the silence of the sea. The ocean awakes into the shapes of light gone, part of one sipping the rain there’s one season alone. There’s glory into the sun winding the red into the willows lost into the mind of cool light, Writhing into the present blue as ever in a sense of dew as the sea … Continue reading Into the cold.
Once born upon the ridges, The coalesce of the dry, dry seams of warmth; There the death of the red, there the death of the wind, And here is a, nonetheless, word spoken, By the life it feels and here is life. Elbows grease up in a flare, Gesturing the root of work and dawn, And to be sure I’ll wake up to hear soon … Continue reading Once Born.