Tristan Robert Lange

Strangers in the Sun

We’re all here,

Like strangers in the sun.

It’s time to run.

Hypnotic is the storm

That rages within.

Clouded with the haze

oF days in the daze

Gone by and by and by.

Rolling streams of waves

Penetrate the stem

That plants itself deep

In the marvelous mind.

I am not at all blind,

Nor am I left behind

The blockade of insanity.

Standing in death sublime,

The overload maximum,

There’s no need to rhyme.

Reason is within the grasp

Of a poisonous asp.

“Ouch!”

I scream with rasp!

© 2024 Tristan Robert Lange. All rights reserved.