This...
A funny series of pock marks,
Placed at a point
Where (like flung from afar)
Liquid lands in droplets
Upon parchment....
This spot.
The revered period.
Unlike
'bleed for days,
With a blatant disregard for rigor mortus,
For stiff comes not with this bleed'
This period bleeds for none...
Ink tossed and splattered,
Like brain fragments (post suicide)
The lone drop,
Landed precariously at the rear
Of a sentence,
Run-on no more...
Intricate B
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
good write, run-on no more, thanks, Please read my poems and comment.