Slicing thoughts, destiny
timeness of present, trying to watch
inside. The inverted question. Mask
removed.
Your own progeny spying on you,
disowning the moon bears. Beyond
truth was a huge wall. Ensnarement.
Whispers silenced.
A vast void. Interpretation of disguised
Voilence. Hostilities in elliptic orbit. Moon
slaughtered. Death was quick, spurting
the blood. Smearing the intelligence.
Paper weight. Surface tension. Shrinking
supreme. Parthenogenesis. Breaking
the square. Ending of scrolls. Cosmic
disorder. What brains were thinking?
Long speeches. Verbatim fuel. Nubile
bombers. Circus of mediocre legends.
Failed epidurals. History is squinting.
Select values are outworn. I am watching
a very red sunset.
The imagery in this poem is beautiful. A 10 from me! -Violet
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
The egg is spun round seven times by the flagelants tails. Seven times as it is foretold in fairytales. Seven times the drier spins your clean clothes toward their drawers before you walk away. An apple is only a vehicle for a paltry sum of poison.