Treasure Island

abbas abubakar


Raw death


Broken chair walk in cloud of gravel spine
Yet montanes cry of lost voices
Deserts have been encroached by stamps of death
Claws of wind tearing shielding rocks if desolate soul
Calm and rough
Tiny and wide
The echoe of death chase mad dogs
Into pit of hell

Submitted: Thursday, August 01, 2013
Edited: Thursday, August 01, 2013

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