Tuesday, November 19, 2013

Obscurity Slow.

Slow death of joy brings a peace like no other
Ignorance fills his mind and I rumble.

I go up on to the throne
and I play slow.

No attention. Invisibility. Despair. It all comes back like
it never went for a hike
and I wish to lie alone in
my creative lair.

1 comment:

  1. Lie alone there more often, another part of you will be born

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