poetry & whatnot.
Kill the night. It's late & I'm tired of sleepless replies to my idle curiosity. The accords of men & their fears. If I were a god
By Ernesto Lacero10 months ago in Poets
The wirings are shot. It is this unholy business I find myself dragged to the depths of. Faith & whatever else whistled by
i. I’ve sung a lullaby, woven from a filament of hair. A memory —faded in nature. What is lost is never lost but waiting out of reach.