a cemetery of strings
a body of injured color
painted red nails, they’re evil
patiently patting the table
as the clock falls to the floor
there’s nothing more
the dead still live, waiting
stained music, screaming spells
the belt tightens! Air, flee;
feel the beating red in your eyes
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
This is very good....vivid imagery....i love it....the first verse killed it...kudos please you shud read my poems...especially, surreal, a walk in the cemetry and Written at midnyt hour....thanks