On the felt Green table
You're up that day. Ashtray by your side
Crackling smoke slivers through
The gap when you peeked at your cards
There's hope on the table
Desire, lust, pain, time
Reality silently pelts down.
Taking, obliterating, gestures at each tap and splice
Focused and detached all at the same time
wrinkles or not
Stones, glare, stare, quiver
Heart beats. Cold
Defeat.
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I want to grow
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By Aathavi Thanges6 days ago in Psyche
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