Thursday, 14 August 2014

The Totem

These dark and voided eyeballs ogle air
All through the night, but dancing sunrise rays
Grant life to granite galls and stony lips.
A breath of blood. A rosé bristle, creak,
Crinkle, a rush comes into empty veins
That no one knows today, but meant so much
To those who chiselled on its nothing frame.

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