Your livid lips,
against the bowl of flesh,
of sky ○ a starry night,
they part and taste goodbye.
Words on motes in beams of light exit mouths that yawn eternity
and weigh infinity completely empty.
Exploded ennui in the flare from a pulsar
on the tip of your tongue
ice drifts from a blossoming flower
YOU ARE READING
Confusion in Underground Clouds
PoetryThis is a collection of assorted poems, detailing one consciousness extending and swirling into another, and another, and another.
