The euphony of treason, the lucidity of ambiguity. The skill is terminal, the depth is unfathomable. You are a bedtime story.
Empty vault: Twelve lines, superfluous metaphors, and a plethora emptiness. Nice job!
This is beautiful. I hope I have met the right sublime message. Either way, I had lived in between these lines. Thank you to your poetry
Salt your tanned bones and bathe in kerosene, hold a pen and let the soul slither into the serpentine road of the enigma of serrated pictures.