I am a catacomb.
To all the useless things.
The bobs and bells,
a turning style
of haiku.
I am a voiceless mass;
that collapsed.
With tongues.
A star that was never born.
A beckon of light outstretched.
I\'m a story-board never
penciled in.
And a common thread pulled
out from space.
The planet never born;
a storm never swarmed.
I\'m a circle in a square.
A space between space.
A tangle-weed majesty.
I am a useless weed.
Gathered by the reaper\'s
feed.
Dancing demons in the dark
of angels; sitting angels in
the light of demons.
A tangle-weed majesty.
Broken