I gloat on a mountain of cigarettes,
self-righteous mortals beneath a cloud of smoke,
polluted blood,
I howl as my cells siren for a piece of mind,
the sighing pulse awaits implosion of serotonin at cusp with the height of freight,
meditate above a red sky,
a germ symbotic with existential earth,
that of a worm,
crawling towards the burning sun.
out of sight,
watched by the giving tree,
return as dust,
thus,
I'm but a fractal of transient life.
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Author:
Zapatron (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: September 9th, 2020 17:06
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 22
Offline)
Comments2
I never knew there was all this in a fraction of transient life. Well, I know now! lol.
Oh there is so much more, thank you for the read
wonderfully ambitious poetry with some truly insightful commentary on life
Thank you for the feedback, much appreciated! 🌞
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