(Untitled)
The Farmers of the field are sleeping.
A lone melee
in the dark-linen creases
of the universe;
with eyes that sweat
as if clouded skies
poring
across a quivering landscape
like the arid planes of this desert
and with the kiss of the nights frigid wind
i become stiff crackled cheeks.
finally alone,
and more than ever
i want to be-
for it is along ( Read more... )
A lone melee
in the dark-linen creases
of the universe;
with eyes that sweat
as if clouded skies
poring
across a quivering landscape
like the arid planes of this desert
and with the kiss of the nights frigid wind
i become stiff crackled cheeks.
finally alone,
and more than ever
i want to be-
for it is along ( Read more... )
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who let you on the internet? ;-)
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