Disingenuous proposals,


I stand firm in a whirlwind,


spinning heads vomit ambiguous summonings,


dormant particles compliment the light,


out of sight; inside the thought of mind,


blackness fills the oneness,


arrows come from all directions,


dry, brown dirt, becomes the haven.

To be able to comment and rate this poem, you must be registered. Register here or if you are already registered, login here.