Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
When my windows close off the storms and moon,
I grip my skin and tuck my soul away.
I whisper impossible oportune
and hold down the fort of miracle play.
Then I see nothing but midnight frontiers
and claim the fear residing in slumber.
I feel the shaking of my lungs and the years
and the stillness of the giant thunder.
Then I feel no ground as I, myself, sink
into the world that cares not for sense,
and the end of me is the missing link
and the darkness inhabits common sense
Finally, curtains open, flooding
the soul I inhabit in mad loving.
YOU ARE READING
The Maze of Curiosities
PoetryPoetry is a writing of passion And a lonely fashion Hated by most But something to toast. This writing would be heaven And a worth given lesson To anyone out there To become bare And be Rare. How may you ask? Leave your mask Forget its existen...
