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Rated: E · Poetry · Environment · #2133292
Few superficial perspectives from a distressed individual...


Beat, beat, beat... the ticker sounds,
Where's the distortion?... one might ask...
Just further puzzles popping...
Almost 9:59 PM...
The spine, once shady, smashed by the endeavour...
The day, wearing, useless and worthless...
The king of the day has gone...
From now on, just the breezing spears...
The outlaw souls hindering the warmth...
Seemingly veiling the flame...


A thunderous blast, out of a sudden, nudging...
Waves shredding and resonating omnipresently...
Towards to the infinite...
Or at least, beyond the reachable...
The serene atmosphere pervading the blankness...
The queen of the night emerging from their peace...
To uplift, inspire, fulfil, and even to bless...
Desires, passions, lust, whatsoever...
A melody echoes...
The cycle goes on and on...
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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/2133292-Senses